


Don’t Test Me, Doctor

by LuckyDuck49



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctors & Physicians, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Sickfic, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wow hey LOTS of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDuck49/pseuds/LuckyDuck49
Summary: Dr Fitzwilliam Darcy meets his newest patient who, by the way, is not at all happy to be there. She is loud, argumentative, and strangely... enchanting. A modern romance In a hospital, short and sweet (I hope).
Relationships: (Background) Charlotte Lucas/Billy Collins, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 82
Kudos: 138





	1. The New Patient

**Author's Note:**

> YES YES I KNOW I haven’t finished my last fic. But I was reading prompts and couldn’t resist! This one’ll be short, I promise *crosses fingers* anyway, I’ll post periodically, lets se where this goes! ;)

Dr. Fitzwilliam Darcy (who just goes by Darcy because, yeah, his parents either hated him or had an 1800s fetish) was not having a good day. After losing a bet with Richard, one of the three doctors on staff right now, Darcy had to pull an extra shift. After an all-nighter. Great. 

Darcy, of course, loved his job. He was the best general practitioner in the state, and he got paid no more than he was owed. Which was a lot. He loved seeing new and interesting forms of common diseases, loved fixing the problems and sorting out statistics. He tried to focus on things that he liked about his job as he chugged his eighth cup of coffee like a frat boy fresh off the keg, rubbed the hoods under his dark eyes with more force than necessary, and stalked down the hallway, clipboard in hand. 

It was 10, maybe 11 at night, and most of the day patients had already cleared out. A few family members lingered by the intensive care wing. Darcy made sure to give them a respectful nod as he passed. He was too tired to talk to people today. 

As he reached the end of the hall, Darcy was checking his notes to make sure he got the right room, when he heard loud voices from behind the door. 

“I TOLD you, it’s nothing! I- I’m fine!”

A huff. “Elizabeth Annabelle Bennet, you are not fine! You’re in the hospital for God’s sake!”

” _Wow Jane,”_ the first voice said in an amused tone, “I hadn’t noticed. And, pray tell, whose fucking idea was THAT?”

“Lizzy.” This time, the sweet, higher voice was low and strained. Darcy felt himself stilling in response to the serious tone. “This isn’t some… some big joke! I- I’m worried about you. Please… just.. don’t keep doing this. Okay? Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when you’re CLEARLY in pain!”

A short silence. 

“Alright. I’m sorry, Jane.”

“Me too. I’m just... worried”

“I know. Call Dad for me, yeh? Somebody else should know.”

“Okay. I will. Love you, sis.” 

“Love you too,” the first voice sighed affectionately. 

Darcy took this as his opportunity to enter. He opened the door and bumped into a stunningly gorgeous blonde, who had big blue eyes (teary and angelic, sky blue) and the kind of face idiots wrote poems about. He apologized, and side stepped. She murmured something about a phone call, and rushed from the room in what could have been described as teary-eyed panic.

After closing the thick door behind him, Darcy took in his patient. She sat, propped up like a porcelain doll in the bed. She had dark, cinnamon hair that fell around her face in bunched-up waves, her milky skin serving as a chessboard contrast. Her heart shaped face was dappled with freckles. Intelligent emerald eyes watched him from behind a gaunt, sunken exterior. 

With a start, Darcy realized he had been staring. “Miss Bennet,” he said, authoritatively, glancing down at his sheet, “would you mind informing of the nature of your visit?”

She snorted. “You make it sound like this was tea with the Queen.”

He looked at her, and she stared back defiantly. _Hoo boy._ He had an aggressive one on his hands.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why you’re here.”

“Until you help me, I don’t know what help I need.”

He resisted the urge to rub his temples. “Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, “What injury or ailment are you experiencing?”

He thought she muttered, ‘a pain in my ass, at the moment’ before responding, “I don’t honestly know. I was having allergies all this week— ya know, runny nose, sore throat— that sort of thing. I took some cold medicine and thought I was good. Then I fell down the stairs.”

Darcy’s mouth twitched. “You fell down the stairs?”

 _”_ _Yes,”_ Miss Bennet sighed in a tone that suggested she was miffed about the whole thing, “I started feeling woozy, saw double, and fell down the stairs. I think I was maybe delirious, because I punched the drywall. It was giving me a superior look.”

Darcy had to remind himself (FIRMLY) that he should not laugh. There was nothing funny about this furious girl who fell down the stairs and punched a wall. Not even the fact that one glance at her fist revealed some plaster stuck to her knuckles. Nope. Nothing funny at all.

Darcy swallowed his laugh as a poorly disguised cough. Miss Bennet glared at him with those jewel-like eyes. He avoided her gaze.

“I’ll fight you, ya know. I’ll fucking fight you,” she said matter of factly. 

She tried to sit up and ball her fists, but was overwhelmed by a furious bout of coughing. REAL coughing. It sounded like she was trying to hack up a lung. His doctor instincts finally took over, and Darcy sat forward. He wanted to put a calming hand on her back, but stopped himself. Physical contact… nope. Nuh uh. That was an office rule, one that normally he had no trouble abiding by. But for some reason, comforting this little freckled thing who was coughing herself a new airway felt… natural.

“Okay,” he said, when the coughing had finally stopped, “Miss Bennet, I would like to—“

“Lizzy.”

“What?”

“Lizzy. That’s my name. Miss Bennet sounds too much like my mom,” Lizzy said, wrinkling her nose (which had started to run).

“I shouldn’t call you that. You’re my patient, I’m going to refer to you respectfully,” Darcy sniffed, with an ironic lack of respect.

Lizzy chuckled, her green eyes rolling skyward. “Well, I won’t respect YOU, so you might as well take advantage of not having to respect ME. I’m tired and hungry and not having anyone’s shit today. What’s your name?”

“Excuse me?” Darcy asked, eyebrows raised.

“Your name. Three words. Commonly used to refer to you. Given on birthdays. NAME. Have one?”

“Darcy,” Darcy said without thinking, then cursed himself for telling her.

She made a sort of a snorting sound in the back of her very congested throat. “What kind of a name is that?” Lizzy laughed, “Imagine, your little newborn comes back to the delivery room: the nurse says ‘Oh they’re a healthy baby boy. What do you want to call it?’ And the mom says,”

She was nearly choking on laughter now, and Darcy was watching her with no small amount of interest,

“The mom says, ‘I’ll call my baby boy DARCY. You know why? Because fuck him, that’s why. I want him to SUFFER in middle school. _SUFFER!’”_

“Actually,” he said wryly, “Darcy’s my last name. Fitzwilliam’s my first.”

“You’re shitting me,” she said, in awe.

“Nope. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Gotta love the middle school nicknames.”

“Ooooh, I BET,” Lizzy cackled, rubbing her palms together manically. Darcy should have instantly regretted telling this crazy woman his full name, but instead he just smiled at her. She was so… energetic. It was endearing.

“So, Miss Bennet,” he started, before being cut off. 

She sat up red faced (But still pale) and furious, shouting, “LIZZY! It’s LIZZY! God, fucking clean your ears and listen to me!”

He stared at her, open mouthed, and she clapped a hand over her own. “I- I’m sorry,” she apologized, shrinking suddenly, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“...uhm, it’s alright, _Lizzy,_ ” Darcy replied, carefully, reproachfully, “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”

She nodded. She looked meager, sitting there all alone in the bed. Sweet. Darcy gulped, and tried to reassume his ‘Dr Darcy’ persona. 

“How long have you been feeling ill?”

“Uhh maybe, like, three days? That’s when it got bad, anyway.”

“Have you experienced any vomiting or diarrhea recently?”

“Nooo..”

“Fever or chills?”

“Fever: yes, chills: I don’t think so.”

“Muscle fatigue?”

She smiled weakly. “Yeah, I definitely got that one.”

“Have you been coughing a lot recently? Have you, um, had any phlegm?”

Lizzy frowned, and Darcy frowned with her. He was starting to notice sweat beading on her pale cheeks and neck. “I.. uh…,” she began, her voice hoarse before it stuck in her throat. Then her eyes rolled up into her rapidly falling eyelids, and she slumped to the side. 

“LIZZY!” He shouted, springing up from his stupor and checking for a pulse.

“Nurse! NURSE!” He called out frantically to the hallway, “I NEED NURSES IN HERE, NOW!”

As the nurses rushed in and started doing their jobs, Darcy watched in helpless limbo as the vivacious woman didn’t open her eyes. Hardly knowing what was happening, he was ushered out of the room as a crash cart entered the scene. His mind had flatlined. All he heard was her voice, a second ago, telling him off and joking around like an old friend. All he saw were her sunken green eyes, staring out at him. And all he felt was the need, the pull, to go back to her.


	2. Under the Pillows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is teased, by multiple people. He finds Lizzy under the pillows. Cuteness. :)

“How is she?”

Dr. Richard Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes at his cousin’s question. “Probably the same as she’s been the last 20 times you’ve asked.”

Darcy had the decency to flush, but the audacity to repeat the question.

“DUDE,” Richard groaned, “Just go in and check on her! God, why are you so hung up on this patient anyway? It’s not like she’s gonna die or anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Darcy muttered.

“Uh, YEAH, I do,” he replied a bit testily. He walked over to the receptionist’s desk, grabbed a file, and stuck in his cousin/colleague’s face. “Here. Take a look-see.” 

Once again, Darcy took the file with a decidedly haughty look, then read over the familiar words.

_Patient: Elizabeth Bennet. Blood type: B+. Addimatance: 9:43pm, 8-12. Reason: Flu-like symptoms, general pain. Disorientation. Notes: Patient experienced heavy coughing, muscle fatigue, mood swings. High fever caused rapid drop in blood pressure and loss of consciousness. Run tests, keep on bed rest._

Once again, he closed the file and wondered briefly what the hell was wrong with him.

It had been nearly 11 and a half hours since he had met Miss Elizabeth Bennet. And he had slept maybe seven of those. The rest though, were eaten up by thinking about her. It was strange— as a general practitioner, he saw dozens of patients every day! Granted, few of them ever required a crash cart or swore at him over nothing, but still! He should not be thinking about her. No. He was NOT thinking about her. 

Richard was staring at him. His cousin’s dirty blonde hair was a mess; Darcy’s own ebony curls weren’t much better. The man’s mouth hung open in a slack-jawed smile. Darcy scowled. “What?”

“Oh. My. GOD!” Richard all but squealed, “You have a crush on her, don’t you!”

“Shut up,” he growled back, reddening in a truly embarrassing way.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day! What was she like? Was she hot? Did she laugh at your lame jokes? Did she talk about Tolstoy— I know that’s a turn on for nerds like you.”

“Shut up!”

“OOOH you’re BLUSHING! You’re in trouble now, Willy!”

“SHUT UP!”

_Finally,_ Richard shut up as an older nurse passed them by, giving the two young doctors a withering stare and a maternal shake of the head. Richard waved back. Darcy wished he could sink into the floor.

“Look,” he hissed at his still beaming cousin, “don’t bring this up again. Who I do and do not… this is none of your business! I don’t even know the woman!”

“Oh sure,” Richard purred back (actually PURRED), “you don’t NOW. But, in a little while, after you head over to her room and talk with her about Plato or Shakespear or some other old dead white dude, you’ll be head over heels, mark my words!”

“Get back to work.”

“You’re not my boss.”

“Consider yourself lucky. I’d fire you on the spot.”

Richard stuck his tongue out and gave Darcy a VERY unprofessional hand sign before flashing him his patented goofy grin and bounding over to his next waiting room. In spite of himself, Darcy chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad Richard was on staff, despite everything. 

Sobering up with a deep breath and a sigh, Darcy took a firmer hold of Miss Bennet— of LIZZY’S file, and headed down the hall. He had memorized her room number. Even before he opened it, he was blushing and smiling like an idiot. 

_Oh yeah,_ he thought to himself, _I’m in trouble._

“Come in!” Came her voice through the thick door. It was weaker than yesterday. Not so boisterous. Darcy opened the door.

In the room, a single balloon stood like a sentry over a mountain of pillows. Lizzy was buried underneath. He chuckled to himself. _Only her._

“Are you laughing at me?” her muffled voice rasped from under the pillows.

“No,” he lied.

“Good,” Lizzy croaked, “‘cause.. ‘cause I’ll fuck you up. Don’t.. don’t test me.”

Darcy smiled, and started moving around some pillows so he could see the patient. The patient was not appreciative, and buried herself further under with a groan. 

He knew when he reached her because she chucked a pillow at his head. Her arm flopped down halfway through throwing it, so it landed harmlessly by his feet.

“Lizzy, you are something else,” Darcy said, retrieving the bedding with a shake of the head.

“Damn straight,” she mumbled back.

“Are you this difficult with other doctors?” He asked, before finally unearthing her face.

“No,” Lizzy said, her green eyes smiling despite the frown, “Just you.”

Despite _himself_ , Darcy smiled down at his shoes, his cheeks warming for some unknown reason. Quickly, he cleared his throat.

“So, Lizzy, I’m here to run some tests. Just to narrow down the diagnosis.”

She eyed him suspiciously. She looked worse today; pale and gaunt, with her pearly skin the color of spoiled milk. Her hands vibrated with slight tremors running up and down her forearms. She covered a nasty sounding cough before glaring at him again. “I thought I told you not to test me.”

Darcy’s brow twitched in annoyance, “Sorry, I thought you were being metaphorical. You know, since you’re LITERALLY AT the HOSPITAL.”

“I am never metaphorical,” she mumbled grumpily, “I mean every word I ever say, ever.”

“Is that so.”

“Yep,” Lizzy said, popping the ‘p’, “and today I say that YOU are more annoying than… than… than Ariel!”

“The mermaid?”

“NO, the sprite for the Tempest. Obviously. God! Annoying!”

_Oh no. She had referenced Shakespear in passing. He was DEFINITELY in trouble._ Darcy tried to stop staring, and almost managed it. 

“Well, uhm, true as that may be,” he said, “we are NOT on a desert island and I am NOT bound to your will. In fact, you kind of have to do what I sa…”

He stopped himself, wisely, when he saw Lizzy’s emerald eyes narrowed to slits. “Finish your thought, Doctor,” she said, in a dangerously low voice.

He swallowed, and changed tactics. “What’s your favorite food?”

“What?”

“Favorite food. Go!”

She sat up weakly, and a smile began to form as she tapped her fingers to her chin, humming. “Uhhhh, pizza! With sausage and mushrooms! And maybe Dr Pepper on the side with OOH! Chocolate cake!”

Darcy tried not to roll his eyes at a meal that he’d seen people literally get heart attacks over. Instead, one eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. She caught the movement, and laughed. 

“Hey, you asked for it!”

“Yes I did,” Darcy sighed, “Now, if you want me to BRING YOU that meal, you’re gonna help with the tests, okay?”

She considered it for a moment. She nodded. “Okay,” Lizzy chirped. He grinned before resuming his doctor-face.

He checked her blood pressure (low), her heart rate (high), her breathing (congested and shaky), and her throat (not good). Finally, he took off the stethoscope and nodded. 

“Okay Lizzy,” Darcy said, all business, “I think our suspicions are confirmed. It’s a bad cold, that weekend your immune system enough for you to contract bacterial pneumonia. We recommend antibiotics, and lots of rest. Since you’ve experienced extreme fatigue and drops in blood pressure, we’re probably going to ask you to stay a few more days.”

Throughout his little speech, Lizzy had been sinking further and further down into her massive stack of pillows. From beneath it, she groaned again. “I hate being sick.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising himself in that he really meant it.

“Not your fault,” Lizzy sighed, “You were just the herald of my doom. No crime in that.”

“Hope you feel better soon,” Darcy said robotically.

“Yeah yeah yeah shove it up your ass,” Lizzy griped.

He turned and made his way to the door before he heard her say, “Darcy! Wait!”

Darcy pivoted back around. A half-moon sliver of her face was visible from behind the pillows. Gaunt and puffy. Her green eyes pierced through him, the emerald catching the light with a feeling behind them he could not name.

“You’re a good guy, Darcy. Thanks for putting up with me.”

Against his will, Darcy felt his lips move upwards, his dimples poking through his indifferent fasade. “My pleasure, Lizzy Bennet,” he said, softly.

Then the door closed, and she was out of sight, before he saw the smile that lit up her face and melted his heart.


	3. How to Buy Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy does what it says on the tin. Cute dialogue and banter to follow. Longish chapter this time, hope y’all enjoy! -Vinny 💕

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not, generally speaking, a man ruled by impulse. He thought through almost every action he performed. Back in high school (much to his chagrin) he had been voted “Least Likely to Take a Risk”. Bingley still teased him about that sometimes. Not that Bingley could talk.

Bingley was risky, but in a way that made Darcy never want to take a chance on anything in his life. Bingley, you see, had a very unfortunate habit of falling in love with the consistency of the moon’s phases. He would meet a pretty blonde who half-smiled at him, declare himself in love, then obsess over her for a month or so. Then he would find another. Rinse, and repeat.

Darcy was not… excessively SUPPORTIVE of his friend’s lifestyle, but he was also a fierce defender of it. So what if his friend had a fickle heart? That didn’t make him a player! He would be legitimately affectionate every time, that affection just… waned.

But still, during every relationship, Bingley was a perfect gentleman! Or so the ladies said. Darcy wouldn’t really know. Until now. 

He sent the text before he could change his mind.

**D: Where’s a good flower shop?**

The response was immediate. **B: Dude? U got the wrong number?**

**D: Just answer the question, Bingley.**

**B: lol what why u want flowers**

**D: That is none of your business. Do you, or do you not, know of any flower shops in the area?**

**B: Miss Clairvoyant’s Boutique is a good one. Real nice atmosphere. Lots of options.**

**D: Thank you. Goodbye.**

**B: OMG HOLD UP IS THIS FOR _THAT PATIENT?!??_ Lmaoooo u are SO whipped**

Darcy turned off his phone after that, his face bright red.

An hour later, he stood inside a cutesy little flower shop, being assaulted by bees and divorced women in their forties, and wished, fervently, he could just die.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ special, sweetie?”

Darcy looked up at the elderly woman, who had flagrantly dyed hair and earrings that seemed to be weighing her down, had it not been for her puffy sleeves and bright sky blue nailpolish. She smiled at him. She looked like the personification of an aunt. 

“Um, yes, actually, I am,” Darcy answered belatedly.

“Anyone in particular you’re thinkin’ of?” The woman asked, winking.

“Well.. I, ah,” he stammered, trying desperately not to cower under the gaze of this 5’4” garden club lady, “She’s… she is my, uh, well…”

Taking the easy way out, he finished lamely, “She’s my patient.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m uh, looking for some ‘Get Well Soon’ flowers,” Darcy explained half heartedly. “Nothing special.”

“Sure,” the woman said, raising her eyebrows and gesturing for him to follow, “I can help you with that, sweets.”

She led him over to a wall of bouquets, ranging from _‘Hey Cute Girl I Like,’_ to _‘I’m a Nice Guy who’s Taking You Out to Dinner,’_ to _‘Please I’m Sorry I Forgot Our Anniversary Please Come Back,’_ to _‘I AM IN LOVE AND WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW IT PLEASE BEAT ME UP I WILL ACCEPT ANY ATTENTION I CAN GET.’_ Darcy cringed. It was a slippery slope of flower bouquets, no doubt about it.

“Here sugar,” the lady said, handing him a card, “This’ll help you if you’re caught up in that head of yours.”

She patted him on the head in a maternal kind of way (he was too caught up in his own head to notice) and walked back to the counter, poised to help another young lovestruck man.

Darcy eyed the card as if it might bite him. He flipped it over, and skimmed through the descriptions. Each flower was represented by a little watermark photo, a description of its needs, and supposed meaning. _Yeeesh, he really was whipped._

After getting a cheerful looking bunch of hyacinths (meaning sincerity [because, judging by Lizzy’s first reaction to him, she wouldn’t believe him if he just said ‘I like you’]), honeysuckle (meaning tenderness [because he wanted to treat… whatever this was with as much care as a heart surgery]) and white camellias. That meant adoration. Because, damn it, he was buying this woman a $40 bouquet of flowers and that was probably a sign he liked her a little more than he had let on.

Clutching the flowers like a weapon, Darcy marched back to his condo. Thankfully, his little sister wasn’t visiting this weekend. Nobody to tease him as he put together the lamest, sappiest, most sucker-punch-worthy care package of all time. He put a little bow on top. The green lace reminded him of her.

The next day, Darcy came in early, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention. The secretary at the front desk gave him a knowing look that made him blush to the roots of his unruly hair, but that was the worst of it. Most medical workers weren’t in early on a Sunday when they technically only had the night shift. 

He stopped outside of her room. He looked at the wood for a solid 45 seconds before breathing. _Okay, too late to turn back now. Just… GO!_ He knocked on her door with his elbow, his hands full of flowers and cardboard. 

“Come in!” He heard her voice say from beyond the heavy wood. He eased the door handle and pushed the door open with his hip.

She was sitting on the bed. No pillow mountain this time, just her and hefty looking novel. She looked better today. The lines under her eyes weren’t as pronounced. Her breathing wasn’t nearly as rasping as before. You could almost miss the IV in her inner elbow. She put the book down and grinned.

“Heyo, Darcy!”

“Hi, Lizzy,” he replied, smiling.

**“What brings you to my domain,”** Lizzy asked in a deep, rumbling impersonation.

He cocked his head at her. She grinned, and held up her book. “Chapter 12,” she said, by way of explanation, “The Hobbit.”

“Ah,” Darcy said, nodding sagely, “Smaug’s lair. Good part. I like the Riddles in the Dark chapter better though.”

She flashed him a grin, saying, “Me too. _‘A box without hinges, key, or lid,_ _Yet golden treasure inside is hid.’_ That one actually stumped me for a while.”

Darcy could literally feel his breath quickening. _Oh god. She read Tolkien. And she could quote it. Noooo no no no. Holy fuck. She could QUOTE it. Dear God, she was perfect._ And she was looking at him.

“Dude. You okay?” She asked teasingly, only her eyes betraying the barest hint of real concern.

With an effort, Darcy shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah? Yeah! I’m good- Great! I- I’m great.” He created his throat and shuffled around. “How— How are you?”

Lizzy laughed, a bit incredulous. “I’m in the hospital, thanks for asking.”

He colored, but before Darcy could stammer out an apology, her forest-green eyes lighted on the cardboard box in his hands.

“Whatcha got there, Darcy? OH! Is it for me? Is it? Is it?” Lizzy pretended to bounce up and down like a little kid before succumbing to yet another coughing fit. Darcy patted her back and waited for her breathing to return to normal before answering.

“Um, well,” he said, the words (for some odd reason) spilling over each other like running water and stopping between syllables like a leaky faucet, “I- I just thought, uh, it might…t- tuh.. provebeneficialtoyour.. your… uh.. stay. Here.”

While Darcy was fumbling his way around a tongue that seemed to no longer be of any use, Lizzy was watching him with an amused expression. 

“Wow,” Lizzy said, during one of his (frequent) pauses, “That was a… very _vague_ explanation.”

“It’s a care package!” Darcy blurted. 

Lizzy’s mouth arranged itself to a little ‘oh’ shape.

“And I got you these,” he added, thrusting the flowers at her. She took them with a glazed look of surprise, like her brain was stuck on the loading screen.

“Th-thank you,” she eventually said. Her tone was hollow, star-struck, sincere. Genuinely thankful. Then she smiled at him, and suddenly all the hassle and embarrassment of the day before melted away because OH LORD her smile was the most magnificent thing Darcy had ever seen in his life.

The smile was bright and beaming, shining like the sun. That sounded sappy, but hey— he was melting here. Her freckles curved around the wide expanse of her grin, smooshing up her lovely eyes into happy little lines. 

Darcy wasn’t even ashamed of it anymore. The fact was right there in front of him. Yup. He was smitten. Maybe not as much as Bingley, but still. Smitten.

“Hey… you didn’t need to do all this,” Lizzy said, still smiling as she took the box from his outstretched hands. 

“I know, I just thought, uh, you would appreciate it.”

“Well I do.”

They smiled at each other for a moment. And for a moment, there was nothing BUT each other. Then she broke his gaze, her pale face flushing adorably. He cleared his throat, but had nothing to say. 

Lizzy opened the box and alternated between laughing, squealing with delight, and thanking him sincerely. The box had everything from a few brownies to a bathrobe to a puzzle book to tissues. Lots and lots of tissues. Darcy had also packed her some practical toiletries (toothbrush, moisturizer, comb, that sort of thing) just in case. 

“This is wonderful,” she breathed, running her hands along the objects, “I feel like a kid at Christmas time.”

Darcy didn’t answer this time, just watched her and smiled. When Lizzy looked up to meet his gaze, her smile waxed impish.

“Heeeyy, didn’t we have a deal that you were gonna get me pizza? You’re still not off the hook for that!”

Darcy’s smile faltered and his face reddened. “Oh God, I forgot to pick it up! I- I’m so sorry, I’ll go get that for y—”

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait, hey! I was just teasing, ya know. This more than enough to spoil me rotten,” Lizzy said softly. He shrugged, helpless under her gaze.

“But,” she added, carefully, “If you DO _want_ to get some pizza, and maybe come back around lunch time, we could… I dunno… uh… have lunch together? Talk about Tolkien? Eat junk food? How does that sound?”

Darcy blinked down at her, uncomprehending. She flushed, and snatched her hand away, taking his silence as her answer.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think, you probably have work to do, I mean of course, you’re a doctor, I shouldn’t have imposed, I’m so sorry,” Lizzy babbled, trailing off at the end. 

Darcy blinked again, and forced himself to say something. “That.. that sounds great.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, grinning down at her, “I would be delighted to have lunch with you, Lizzy.”

She smiled back, and Darcy could hardly believe his luck.


	4. Lunchtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy brings lunch, and eats with Lizzy. Cute banter and fluff ensues. Longer chapter :)

“For the last time, this is NOT a date!”

“Are you sure? Like, positive?”

Darcy glowered at his ginger friend, who raised his arms in a defensive gesture. “Hey man, I’m just saying! You bought her flowers!”

He made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. Bingley did kind of have a point. But still. Darcy was never going to admit it, even as the two doctors were walking down the hall to see the popular patient. 

“Listen Bingley,” Darcy muttered (so they wouldn’t be overheard by any nurses passing by), “I barely know the woman! This is just.. just a casual lunch! At work. With a client. It’s nothing to freak out over!”

“Oh this is so much more than that, and you know it,” Bingley laughed, amiably nudging Darcy’s shoulder. “But don’t worry, I won’t tease. Much.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grunted back.

Bingley smiled, and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking suspiciously innocent. Darcy looked down at their feet as they walked across the hallway, a bag of food slung under one of his arms, two to-go cups in his hands. 

“OKAY,” he finally relented, “Maybe this is… KIND OF a date.”

Bingley grinned. “Finally, comin’ around, eh?”

Darcy sighed. He wished he could rub at his face without setting down the drinks. “I just… GAH! I don’t know! She’s… pugnacious, and temperamental, and…”

“...and witty and cute and just your type,” Bingley finished for him. “Dude! Face it, she’s not gonna be perfect all the way through! But, at the risk of sounding super cheesy, she might be perfect for you. I’ve never seen you like this, Darce!”

“Yeah,” Darcy grumbled, “Me either.”

“Just.. try to relax,” Bingley advised as they reached the fabled door, “It’s no biggie! I mean, it’s not like it’s love at first sight or anything!”

Bingley pulled open the door and came face to face with a woman, the same one that had rushed out of Lizzy’s room on her first night. She was tall and blonde, with full lips and slanted blue eyes. She looked like Cinderella, personified. 

Bingley gaped openly at her. “Da- ahh… h-hi…”

“Hi,” the blonde murmured, looking a little abashed. 

“I’m.. muh.. h-hello.”

Darcy rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics. He stepped in before things could get too awkward and Bingley could say hello a third time.

“Hello, Miss. I am Dr. Darcy, and this is my colleague, Dr. Charles Bingley.”

“Nice to meet you,” the blonde said softly, reaching out a dainty hand to Bingley. He took it with much enthusiasm. “I’m Jane.. Jane Bennet. Just visiting my sister here.”

“Pleasure to meet you Jane, and please, call me Charlie,” Bingley said after finding his tongue. He shook her hand, and didn’t let go for a fair bit too long.

She smiled sweetly. “Okay, Charlie.”

Bingley beamed. Darcy lightly rolled his eyes, and left Bingley to work his conversation magic. He made a mental note to give Bingley a hard time for this, afterward. In the meantime though, he slipped past his lovestruck friend and into Lizzy’s room.

Lizzy was sitting cross-legged over the covers. She wore yoga pants and a T-shirt with a cartoon picture of the Eiffel Tower burning on the front. The IV was wrapped around her folded knees, and she looked less weak today. Her dark cinnamon curls were tied up in a messy ponytail, wisps escaping out over her ears. In front of her, she had a few novels, sharpies, and a Polaroid camera. 

Lizzy pointed it at the flowers on her bedside table, lining up a shot. At _his_ flowers. The ones he had given her. She liked them. He felt something swell inside his chest. Then he dispelled the feeling, and quickly cleared his throat.

Her head whipped around, ponytail slapping the side of her face. “Pizza delivery,” Darcy tried to joke.

She grinned hugely. “AH! You’re the best!” She scooted over, and patted the spot next to her. He sat down gingerly.

“So, uh, what are you doing?” He asked, in the most casual voice he could muster. She smiled, encouragingly.

“This? I’m just messing around. I actually DO take photos for a living, but I just kinda like to play around with it sometimes.” Lizzy shrugged. 

“So you’re a photographer?”

“I guess,” she said, opening the pizza lid, “I do photo shoots for private customers, websites, magazines… I once got some of my stuff in a museum gallery, until they put in the new wing. So, yeah, I’m a photographer. Still kinda think of it as a hobby though.”

Darcy nodded. “That’s.. interesting.” He cringed after he said it; it didn’t sound genuine, even though he desperately meant it as such. “Have you always liked taking pictures?” He asked.

“Have you always wanted to be a doctor?” Lizzy asked in return.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

She bit into the pizza and chewed, thoughtfully. “Though, I have always liked art.”

“And I’ve always liked science.”

Lizzy grinned at his response. “Hey hey! Science man and art girl! Together we could make a new renaissance!”

“Maybe without all the statues though,” he suggested, “I don’t think either of us are cut out for sculpting.

“Oh, you never know.”

Darcy’s mouth twitched upwards into a smirk. “Fine. Without all the _nude_ statues then,” he deadpanned.

“Like I said, _you never know,”_ Lizzy replied, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

Darcy couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. She laughed along with him, delighted. “I-,” Darcy choked out, his face strawberry red from laughter, “Your- your face...” 

He dissolved back into peals of laughter. The good kind. The deep, belly kind of laugh that makes your eyes water, your face sore from smiling, and hurts your throat something awful. He relished in the euphoria of the pain.

Then, just as quickly, he was brought out of his exuberant mood by Lizzy beginning to cough even harder, hacking around laughter.

“Breathe!” He told her, pressing a hand to her back.

 _“Thank you,”_ she wheezed, _“Doctor Helpful.”_

Another lung-tearing bout of ‘breathing,’ and Lizzy got it out of her system. Grabbing a tissue, she spat out some phlegm. “Gross,” she rasped.

“You okay?” Darcy asked, putting a hand to her forehead, “Is your temperature rising again?” 

“I dunno, you’re the doctor,” Lizzy quipped with a weak smile. 

She felt warm, but not overly elevated. She must have just exerted herself too much. He told her so, and was rewarded not with a submissive nod but with a tilted smile.

“Hey, it’s your fault for making me laugh! C’mon, doc, no making me laugh! DOCTOR’S ORDERS!”

 _“I_ only laughed because _you_ laughed,” he laughed.

“Thanks for the pizza by the way,” Lizzy said, changing the subject so quickly Darcy got social whiplash.

“Oh, uh, it’s no trouble.”

“Yes it was.”

“Yeah, it was, but I don’t mind, really!”

She eyed him, and he presented her with an awkward thumbs-up. “I have the night shift anyway, so it’s not like you’re disrupting my work,” he tried to say.

“What! I’m cutting into your off-time?! Dude, why didn’t you say something?!”

“Because I wanted to eat lunch with you,” Darcy answered simply.

“Oh.”

She took another bite of pizza after looking away. Darcy took out his own lunch: a mediocre looking mixed salad with strips of grilled chicken packed in like sardines around the edges. He stabbed it with the little plastic fork the store had given him, and attempted not to sigh heavily.

“If you wanted to eat with me, what’re you doin’ with that?” Lizzy asked around a straw.

“This?” Darcy held up his salad. “It.. is my lunch. It’s healthy.” He tried not to say ‘healthy’ like ‘repulsive bucket of slugs’, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. 

“It’s rabbit food,” Lizzy remarked, wrinkling her nose.

“No it isn’t. It’s good for you!” he rebuffed indignantly, “Unlike… that.” He gestured broadly to where, in one hand, Lizzy held a hearty slice of mushroom and sausage pizza, and in the other, an extra large soda. 

“EzCUSE YOU,” She laughed, taking another bite, “but MY lunch is a DELICACY. It cleanses the palate.”

“Uh huh,” Darcy grunted, eyeing the dripping grease with barely disguised distrust. 

“Hey, you do you, boo,” Lizzy said, raising her shoulders, _“Just don’t throw croutons at me_ when you realize you hate the meal, and, by extension, life in general.” 

A crouton hit her on the nose.

“HEY!” She gasped, rubbing her nose in false indignation, “You would accost the infirmed with hardened breadstuffs?! Shame on you, Fitzwilliam Darcy!”

Darcy laughed, feeling more carefree than he had in years, and almost missed the sound of the heavy wooden door opening behind him, and, by extension, Bingley’s dramatic entrance.

“Darcy!” He exclaimed, bounding into the room, “Darcy I got her number!! She’s a model, and she lives uptown, and she’s meeting me for dinner at—” 

He stopped short. “Oh. Hi, Lizzy. I forgot you were here.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “How could you _‘forget she was here’?_ This is HER hospital room.”

“Chipper as always, are we?” Bingley asked with a good-natured grin. 

Darcy made some non-committal sound and took a drink of his cola. He wished Bingley would go away, but he didn’t know why. Lizzy was looking at him strangely now. He tried to ignore it.

Bingley though, perceptive as ever, took notice of Darcy’s retreating back behind a scowl. He seemed to understand immediately.

“Anyways I’ll tell you later,” the ginger said decisively. “Nice seeing you, Lizzy!”

“You too,” she acknowledged, smiling. Darcy felt his scowl deepen, just a fraction of an inch.

Once Bingley was out of the room, Lizzy turned sharp, curious eyes on Darcy. “What was that all about?”

“What was what?” Darcy asked, fiddling with his lid.

“You know what. That! Why did you get all… uncomfortable. Don’t you like Charlie?”

“What, no!” Darcy exclaimed. “Wait- I mean yes! Yes, I like him! He’s one of my best friends. Has been since med school.”

“Then why’d you look all… hunched and squirmy?” Lizzy asked, tilting her head and scrunching her face, as if to demonstrate.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said, defensive. 

He really didn’t know, but he was starting to get an idea. This was HIS time with Lizzy. He didn’t want to share. He was starting to find out that… Darcy liked who he was when they were alone together. And he hadn’t wanted it to end, the fun, playful side of him that was being drawn out. 

They ate in silence for a while. Not good silence either. Awkward silence.

Eventually, Lizzy asked him if she could play some music. He acquiesced, relieved that the unbearable silence could be broken. She turned on Spotify and pulled up some playlist. 

Eventually, he smiled at her, smiled at the way she got all flustered when he caught a glimpse of her jacked-up music history. She apparently had listened to both Fur Elise and Miley Cyrus in one afternoon.

Eventually, the silence didn’t seem so unbearable. Not when they were together.


	5. Ear to the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few thoughts on Darcy, and Darcy’s thoughts on others. Snippets of conversations. The NEXT chapter is gonna be a kicker, just y’all wait ;)

Over the next five days, Darcy ate lunch with Lizzy. Every day. He also spent as much time as he could with her on his breaks. He found her to be an avid reader, a spirited debater, and overall very opinionated person. He liked her more with every passing hour. 

Usually, doctors were encouraged not to get too attached to their patients. After all, what would happen if something went wrong? How were you supposed to remain impartial if you developed feelings for a patient?

But nobody mentioned this to Darcy (who had conveniently forgotten the rule). The nurses gave him half pitying, half envious looks, but said nothing. The receptionist (who was nicknamed Kitty, and had a tendency to gossip about everything) encouraged Darcy’s pursuits. The other doctors on the floor had mixed feelings. Well, one of them did.

Dr. Richard Fitzwilliam, at first, had been thrilled that his stone-hearted cousin had finally met his match. He loved teasing him incessantly; he didn’t often get an opportunity to do so. But, as the days wore on Darcy continued to act the besotted fool, Richard grew worried. The patient was recovering quickly. Soon, she would be gone. He just hoped Darcy hadn’t been stupid enough to give his heart away to Miss Bennet. A fractured wrist or an infected organ: easy fixes. A broken heart? Not so much.

Still, he kept his mouth shut (for once), and hoped for the best. Hey, maybe Lizzy would stick around! Make things better. Darcy HAD been kinder recently. More… sappy. But, that was to be expected when one was in love. 

The other doctor on the floor probably didn’t even notice anything out of the usual. Bingley was in love again. This time, with a blonde model named Jane. That certainly didn’t help with Darcy’s growing infatuation. It probably made things worse, since Bingley was constantly encouraging Darcy to check up on Lizzy in the hopes of tagging along to run into her sister. 

So, it was all up to Darcy to check himself. To NOT cross a line between doctor and patient. But Darcy, reveling in the new lightheadedness growing wild and rampant inside his chest, chose to ignore that problem for now. He didn’t worry about it. And that, perhaps, was his first mistake.

Darcy was bringing takeout today. He and Lizzy were going to be watching a movie; she had been up in arms when she found out he had never seen  _ Isn’t it Romantic.  _

“Oh you’re gonna hate it,” she had said when he asked why this particular set of movies. “I mean like, HATE it, hate it.”

“Then…,” Darcy had blinked, “why… would I watch it..?”

“Um, because it’s a CLASSIC!” Lizzy had exclaimed, grinning. “It’s, like, my whole childhood! Except it came out last year, but that’s beside the point!”

He had laughed nervously, and said it didn’t really sound like his scene. Then Lizzy had said: “Just trust me! Even if you don’t like it, I think you’ll… appreciate it. I want to watch it with you. Please?” She had given him puppy-dog eyes, and Darcy’s willpower crumbled like sand in his fist.

He had finally agreed, if only because it was a romance movie, and the fact that she wanted to watch that kind of thing with  _ him _ made his stomach do a little summersault. 

He hurried his pace. Just a little.

As Darcy reached the now familiar door though, he heard voices inside. His fist stalled over the wood, poised and hesitating, uncertain if he should wait until whoever it was finished talking to Lizzy before going in. Then he heard his name.

“Darcy? Isn’t he that.. the famously young, rich, single general practitioner?”

Lizzy’s voice answered. “Huh? Uh, I guess, yeah. Dr. Darcy. He’s… uh, a good- good guy. Yep. Puts up with me..” A little laugh. Darcy wondered whether or not it was forced. He leaned a little closer to the door.

“Good guy, huh?” This voice was also feminine, but sounded more.. stable. Yes, that was the word. A stable, sturdy alto. “That’s high praise coming from you, Lizzy.” A squeak, as if someone was sitting down on the bed. “Sooooo, tell me about him!”

Darcy wanted to pull away, to knock and announce his presence, to be a gentleman and NOT eavesdrop on whatever Lizzy was going to say next. But, alas, he was only human. He shifted closer to the door.

“He… he’s really nice. Smart! A little awkward.” Darcy nodded internally. He couldn’t exactly disagree with her. 

“And.. he seems.. really… nice to be around. He’s quiet a lot, but when he talks, it’s always really deep and interesting. I like talking to him.” Darcy smiled to himself. This was better than he had hoped.

The other woman’s voice was back. “But is he hot though?”

Darcy felt heat rise to his face. Every gentlemanly instinct inside him told him to PULL BACK NOW but he couldn’t. He was riveted to the spot.

Lizzy laughed, high-pitched and anxious. “CHARLOTTE! You- you don’t just ASK if somebody’s hot!”

“Why not? We do it all the time! So, anyway, you’re totally blushing, so like, how spicy are we talking? Rate him on a scale from… hmm… Billy Collins to Greek God.”

“Char, isn’t Billy your fiancé?”

“Details, darling, details.”

“Ugh! Fine!” Lizzy’s tone was exasperated, but Darcy thought he could detect a smile in her words. 

“He’s… um… Darcy is…..” She trailed off, and Darcy felt his heart stop (which was embarrassing).

“Closer to the second option, huh?”

Darcy was sure his face was magenta, but OH _was he **smiling!**_ Lizzy laughed from inside the room. “..yeah. Yeah, I guess he is.”

“GIRL describe him! I gotta know Dr. Handsome when I see him.”

“Well.. he’s… tall. Well built. Dark, curly hair. The cutest dimples you’ve ever seen, but only when he smiles real big… Really… really intelligent.. really sharp eyes… dark.. and- and piercing…” 

A guttural sound of frustration. “UGH I can’t do this, Char! He’s my friend, it- it’s gonna make it weird! Hell, he should be here any minute with lunch!”

Darcy was about to use that as an opening, but the next turn in the conversation forestalled him.

“God, Lizzy you sound just as bad as that other doctor (what’s his name?)!”

“Dr. Bingley?”

“Yeah, that’s the one! By the way, how’s Jane handlin’ that?”

Lizzy sighed. “I don’t know.. Paul broke her heart pretty bad last year… I didn’t think she should open up so fast, but.. well, I guess you never know when you’re gonna meet someone. She seems just about ready to fall though. I… God, I just hope Bingley won’t disappear like the last one. I don’t think... I dunno if Jane could take another hit.”

Darcy swallowed.  _ Hoo, boy. Fragile one.  _

If Bingley broke Jane’s heart (or rather, WHEN he broke Jane’s heart), what would happen? Darcy had the pleasure of meeting the fabled older Bennet sister (⅔ met now), and she had seemed just as kind as she was beautiful. That was great for Bingley, of course, but what if he hurt her? Would she ever forgive him? Would LIZZY ever forgive him? She did seem like the protective type.. hm. Lizzy had said that Jane wasn’t in love.. yet. That meant he still had time. If he could… somehow  _ convince _ Bingley to transfer his attention elsewhere, maybe Jane wouldn’t have to deal with the looming heartbreak! Maybe Lizzy would trust him more if he did something for her family. Maybe…

Darcy shook himself out of his thoughts. He had been loitering too long. Gathering his courage, Darcy took the bull by the horns, and pushed open the door. He was ready, now.


	6. Smiles All Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, don’t be mad, but instead of furthering the plot, I wrote a chapter (twice as long as usual) that was pure fluff. Like.. ALL fluff. Made my face hurt from smiling as I wrote it. I had a feeling some sweetness was needed, before we get into the spice ❤️

He pushed open the door to find a plain, sarcastic looking woman (she had what Lizzy would call a “vibe”) standing over the bed. She jumped at least three inches off the ground, and turned her face upwards with the startled look of a squirrel caught in the middle of the freeway. Lizzy was sitting in her bed in a cute green sweater and fuzzy socks. She smiled at him. Darcy gave a little half-wave back. 

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi Darcy,” Lizzy said back, still smiling.

“Well, I uh, guess I better be going now,” the woman said. She turned back to Lizzy with wide eyes and mouthed the word ‘DAAAMN’ when she thought Darcy wasn’t looking. The man himself wanted, in truth, to die at that moment. Lizzy looked like she was thinking the same thing.

“Bye,” the woman said, making her way to the door, “Take care, Liz.”

“See ya, Char,” Lizzy said back, raising her hand at the closing door. 

Darcy waited until her footsteps cleared the bend in the hallway before taking a step into the room. “Hello,” he said, again. “How.. are you?

Lizzy grinned impishly and gestured to the bed. “VERY well,” she purred, “Come. Sit. We have MUCH work to do.”

The doctor groaned, but complied. “Remind me again, why are we watching this?”

She didn’t respond right away. First, Lizzy shifted over the covers, setting up her iPad for a viewing as they both took out their food and got situated. She and Darcy ended up sitting side by side, pressed up against the back wall, their lunches perching on their knees.

“Because,” she finally explained, “I love this movie. And it’s brilliant. Amazing cinematography, flawless acting, hilarious dialogue: the works. It’s a masterpiece. And I wanted to share it with you.”

Lizzy bumped his shoulder in an amiable way. Darcy blushed, and looked away. It was a few moments before he had composed himself enough to respond. 

“I.. get that…,” he said, carefully, “but… surely there are OTHER more.. ah,  _ conventional _ masterpieces, that would be more… (how do I put this)  _ suited _ to our tastes?”

“Psssh, you snob!” Lizzy laughed, bumping against him again. “What OTHER masterpieces ARE THERE?!”

Darcy started to list some of the films he had known to be called masterpieces (Casablanca, Interstellar, Titanic, Inception, the Truman Show) before he was shushed by an exuberantly exasperated Lizzy.

“Nononono,” she huffed, “Firstly, those are NORMAL masterpieces. I’M talking about the  _ unconventional  _ ones. The ones that make you squeal in the credits. The ones you rant about it to strangers on a subway. THOSE ones.”

“Plus,” Lizzy added with a wickedly beautiful smile, “The actress in  _ Isn’t it Romantic  _ is hilarious. Rebel Wilson, I think? She’s pure gold! Shame I can’t stop seeing her as Fat Amy, though.”

Darcy wrinkled his aquiline nose. “That’s a bit  _ rude,  _ dontcha think?”

“What? Fat Amy? That’s just the character’s name, don’t worry.”

“Still.”

“Yeah I gues— WAIT!” 

Lizzy put one hand on her heart, and the other on his face. Darcy froze, and tried to sit perfectly still. Her fingers were warm and sticky with sauce. He looked at her, and she stared back at him. Her eyes were so, so green.

“YOU’VE NEVER SEEN PITCH PERFECT?!?”

Darcy crinkled his brow. “Um. What?”

“Oh, honey,” Lizzy said, in a shell-shocked, disbelieving voice, “we have MUCH work to do.” She patted his cheek and turned away, shaking her head. 

As she fiddled with the iPad, pulling up the movie, Darcy lightly felt his cheek, where she had held his face. A light, sticky warmth remained. The skin there felt electric. Like he had been struck by a cosmic force, and it was bouncing from neuron to neuron, firing on chain reactions of butterflies in his stomach.

Lizzy’s voice brought him back to the present.

“Actually,” she said, (thankfully) not noticing as Darcy snatched his hand away from his cheek and tried to look innocent, “Since I’m being released soon, and I have all the movies on DVD, we can binge the trilogy sometime!”

“Huh?” Darcy squeaked.

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.”

_ Up for it?  _ Darcy would have gladly jumped through FIRE to spend even another DAY with Lizzy Bennet. Some teenage rom-com trilogy?  _ That was nothing! _

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Yeah, I’m down.”

“Cool,” she smiled in return. She sat back, and played the movie.

Darcy hardly paid attention to the first scene. His mind was stuck, going round and round on one, simple idea.  _ She was thinking about him. _

Lizzy wanted to watch movies with his. Stupid, trashy, horribly ADORABLE movies with him. At her place. AFTER she was out of the hospital. After she was no longer required to see him. She wanted to.  _ But  _ she had told her friend (Shaundra? Char?) that she old thought of Darcy ‘as a friend’. Did she really mean that? Or… did she want more?  _ Did HE want more? _

_ Yes. Yes. Unequivocally, yes. He wanted more. _

Waaaait a second. So… was she proposing.. a- a date? Movie at her place, that sounded like a date. And.. they were watching a movie right now, weren’t they? WAS THIS A DATE?!? Could he kiss her? Oh god, he wanted to kiss her so bad. And he had brought her flowers! FLOWERS! That was a thing dates did, right?? And they had eaten lunch together every day since then… so… counting those as dates, he wouldn’t be moving too fast if he tried to make a move! Right? He could do that, right?  _ Oh Lord, when had watching a movie become so complicated?!? _

Darcy licked his lips, and glanced over at Lizzy. Her green eyes were glued to the screen. Her pink, full lips were puckered in an attentive little quirk around her face. An almost-smile. Her hand was braced on the covers in between them, fingers splayed out against the bedspread. The back was sprinkled with cute little freckles that inched around the knuckles and wrist. 

It was close. So close.

Tentatively, Darcy  _ ever-so-slowly  _ stretched out his hand. It was less than five centimeters away from hers. He swallowed, hard.  _ Here goes nothing…  _ He moved his hand over the covers at a snail’s pace, drawing closer…  _ closer… _

**_BAM!_ **

Darcy, being the cool, collected gentleman he was, was caught so off-guard he tumbled off the bed entirely. He landed on his elbows, a sharp sting of pain ricocheting off his joints. From his position under the bed, he caught a glimpse of a nurse’s uniform striding purposefully through the now doorway. She must have slammed it as she walked in.

From where he laid on the floor, Darcy could see a crescent of Lizzy’s face, but not much else. He was about to get up, when a high-pitched woman’s voice rang out through the room.

“Hiya, sugar! Ready for a vitals check?”

“U-uh,” Lizzy stammered, bewildered, “Y-yeah! I guess.”

The nurse hummed along with the sound of Velcro coming undone. “ _ Heeey _ ,” she said a moment later, “Are you eatin’ lunch with someone? This much food isn’t healthy for one person, ya know.”

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Lizzy answered hurriedly, “I’m, uh, actually eating with someone.”

“Really?” The perky voice asked, “Who?”

“Dr. Darcy.” Lizzy’s voice hitched in a I’m-holding-back-laughter kind of way, “I’m not sure where he went though.”

Darcy mentally growled from under the bed.  _ Right _ .  _ Smooth, real smooth, Darcy.  _

“Dr. DARCY!” The woman gasped, “Are ya  _ sure _ it was him and not Bingley?”

“Um. Yes. It was… definitely Darcy.”

“ _ Well,”  _ she exclaimed, “I’d NEVER! Eating lunch with a PATIENT! That man is a stone-wall, I tell ya, I’ve never seen him pay an ounce of attention to ANY patient outside of work!”

“Really,” Lizzy said, though it didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a bait, which the perky nurse latched onto with the force of a largemouth bass. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Oh  _ yeah!  _ I mean, sure, he talks with the other doctors, and he’s polite an’ all, but social interaction? When it’s not REQUIRED? Hah! Forget it! He’s the kind of guy who’d never be caught DEAD at a club, unless the word ‘country’ came before it. Kinda guy you’d  _ think  _ attracts a lot of ladies, but just.. doesn’t.”

Darcy was  _ positive _ he would die of embarrassment, right then and there. Seriously,  _ why _ was everyone talking about him today? And  _ why _ did he keep overhearing their conversations? 

The only things that stopped him from jumping up and running out of the room were A) he’d be spotted, and B) he didn’t want to cut his time with Lizzy short. Even if he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes after this.

Her voice was speaking now. She was asking the nurse why ladies didn’t like him. Yup, Darcy wanted to die.

“Oh sugar, THEY like him plenty! I mean, who wouldn’t! He’s well-mannered, successful, and  _ sexy _ as I’ll get out…”

This earned a laugh from Lizzy. That settled it. Darcy was never coming out from under this bed.

“...but he’s just never interested! It’s the strangest thing, I tell ya. Darcy never takes a liking to ANY girl— or guy, for that matter. He nods, he answers questions, he’ll  _ talk  _ if he’s forced, but nothin’ more! I guess that’s part of the.. proper, gentleman charm? Tall, dark, mysterious loner who’s always perfect? That’s the makings of a real lady-killer!”

“Huh,” Lizzy said, a smile in her voice.

“ANYway, I’ve been talkin’ too long, haven’t I?” The sound of Velcro again, and a shuffling of feet. “You’re blood pressure’s comin’ back up, FINALLY. 115/60. Not bad! Your temperature’s just bordering on slightly elevated, but that’ll come back down soon. I bet you’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Hey, no problem. Take care, sugar!”

“I will!”

The door slammed again. Bemused and ashamed, Darcy let out a breath that he had apparently been holding. Lizzy’s face appeared, leaning over the bed with an annoyingly adorable grin in place. “You can come out now.”

Darcy got to his feet. His face was on fire. He cleared his throat, then realized he had nothing to say. Lizzy smiled, and raised her eyebrows. “Lady killer, huh?”

“I want to die.”

She laughed. “I figured as much. Come on.” She patted the spot next to her. 

When he didn’t sit right away, she looked up at him, a half-smile still in place. “What? We  _ are  _ still watching, right?”

Darcy nodded, and deftly sat back down beside her. He kept his eyes on the screen as she pressed play, but saw nothing. He had ruined it. His one chance.  _ Now she would just laugh at him. What was he even doing? The nurse was right— he just wasn’t cut out for romance. Lizzy deserved better than him. She just thought of him as a friend, or worse, just a big joke. She probably didn’t even like him— why should she? Darcy was acting like an idiot. What was he even doing? He should just— _

Lizzy heaved a sigh, and took his hand in hers. 

. . .

Darcy’s brain was stuck on the loading screen. What.. Sh-she just… Did she… Wh-why did she… what was… Did… Th… What.

Lizzy looked over at him, shrugged, and smiled. “What?” She asked, playfully, “You’re cute when you blush.”

Darcy’s smile crept over his face, slowly, as recognition dawned in his dark eyes. He wanted to say something, but he had completely forgotten how to form coherent words. He beamed at her. She laughed, and squeezed his hand.

“I like you, Darcy.”

“Will!” He cut in, finally finding his voice, “Call me Will.”

“Okay,” Lizzy said, her green eyes smiling more than her face ever could. “I like you, Will. Just the way you are.”

Then she leaned her head over onto his shoulder and snuggled her nose into his neck. Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles. He could feel the smile in her cheeks as they pressed into his shoulder. Darcy couldn’t remember the name of the movie, but suddenly, it became one of his all-time favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I’ve been getting Some comments about how much y’all like The fluff and are NOT looking forward to the angst, which I get. But. I have some REAL NICE angst planned out for this story, and I’m prepared to use it (if this is the case, I will add in some fluff too just bc) BUT ON THE OTHER HAND I do have a way to keep it light, and just like, half a chapter of watered-down angst. Idk which one imma use. Whoever comments next gets to decide 👑  
> \- Vinny


	7. A Lot of Convincing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy acts on his instinct about Jane and Bingley. Break room confrontation. Don’t look away, the train wreck’s just beginning ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y’all, I didn’t get any comments back requesting angst or fluff before my squirrel-like attention span snapped, and I decided. Don’t worry, I’m putting in lots off fluff to balance it out. Anyway, buckle your seatbelts: HERE COMES THE SPICE 🌶🌶🔥

Technically, Darcy only had the night shift. But that day, he clocked in at 7:30am on a mission. He found who he was looking for in the break room.

“Hey, Darce-man!” Bingley jovially, raising his coffee cup (all cream and sugar, barely any actual liquid) in a greeting gesture. 

“Good morning Bingley,” Darcy replied with a half-smile. He cleared his throat. Oh boy. This wasn’t gonna be easy. “Hey, um, do mind if I… ask you about something of.. a personal nature?”

“Sure,” his ginger friend responded without a second thought. “What is it?”

Before answering, Darcy glanced around the break room. It was barren, except for some to-go cups, coffee stained files, wadded up napkins, and Richard, who was lurking behind a newspaper. Darcy gave him a half-nod of greeting. Richard grinned back, but flicked up his newspaper, allowing the other doctors a semblance of privacy. Darcy appreciated it.

“Well..,” he started, turning back to his friend, “It’s about.. Jane.”

Bingley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh yeah? Isn’t she an angel? God, she’s one of the sweetest, most beautiful, most PERFECT girl I’ve ever met! I think she must be the single most..”

“Yeahyeah- I’m sure she’s a paragon among women,” Darcy cut off, “but… how well do you know her?”

“Um. Decently?” Bingley scrunched up his face as he did only when he was at the depths of his most shallow thought. “Why d’ya ask?”

Darcy licked his lips. Lying had never been easy for him. But.. this was for Lizzy. He felt a twinge of guilt at deceiving his friend, but it dissolved when he imagined sweet Jane Bennet, who he was sure was the human equivalent to a kitten, sobbing on the floor after Bingley (unintentionally) broke her heart. It was made worse when his treacherous mind pictured Lizzy crying along with her, looking up at him with tears swimming in her then hateful green eyes, hissing at him that he could have prevented this. Sliding his hands into his pockets to hide his clenching fists, Darcy made up his mind.

“Are you sure about her?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, are you sure she’s legit?”

“What are you talking about?” Bingley laughed.

“I’m serious, Charles.” That got his attention. Darcy only ever used his friend’s first name when something was dreadfully wrong. The last time he had called his friend ‘Charles’ was the night before his parent’s funeral.

“What is it?” Bingley asked, his eyes no longer laughing.

Darcy sighed, and pretended to worry with his collar. “I just… seems kinda weird, dontcha think? Like, the perfect woman walks in here: flawlessly pretty, stellar career, sweet personality… and immediately falls for you? I mean come on! There’s gotta be a catch.”

“But what if there isn’t!” Bingley insisted. “She could be the One!”

_ Yeah, and all the other blondes were the One too.  _ Darcy schooled his features expertly. He assumed a look of poignant sympathy. “Are you sure?”

“Yesss..?”

“Are you sure she’s not just after your money?”

“Hey!” Bingley snapped, uncharacteristically offended.

Darcy backed off, and tried another tactic. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. Can’t be too careful. Hey, when did you say you were meeting her?”

Bingley’s spark of indignation fizzled out, and he relaxed back into affability. “Ah, yeah, I’m meeting her sometime.. soon. Dunno when yet. She had to cancel the second date, and didn’t have time to reschedule. She’s such a talented model, she gets offers from all over. Back to back meetings and rehearsals…”

Darcy seized upon the opening like a cat upon a string. He nodded, sadly, understandingly, as if Bingley had just sobbed openly instead of gushing about his not-quite-girlfriend. “Ah… she was ‘too busy’. I gotcha.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… It’s just.. I’ve used that trick before.”

“What, what trick?”

“If I like somebody, but I don’t (for lack of a better term) LIKE-like them, I back off and pretend to be too busy to see them again.”

Bingley’s face was first white as chalk, then fell back into a healthier shade: denial. “No, no, she liked me. I KNOW she liked me.”

“How could you tell?” Darcy asked.

“She.. she gave me her number. She let me take her out to dinner! She.. blushed… an-and smiled…”

Darcy looked on with genuine pity, but not for the reason his friend supposed. “Jane’s a sweetheart, I grant you that. Always smiling, always serene… did she act any different on your date?”

“W-well.. she, uh,” Bingley stammered, looking stricken, “She was a little quiet.. she fidgeted in her seat when she saw the restaurant.. and she looked panicked when I talked about family… Do you really think she didn’t like me?”

“Hey, I’m just a bystander here,” Darcy said, “But ask yourself: What made YOU different?”

Bingley looked pale and hushed. Like he had just suffered a breakup. After a second, he exclaimed, “Wait a minute, what about Lizzy?!”

“Excuse me?”

Bingley ran a hand through his hair, and started pacing around the room. When he spoke, his words came rapid fire, mumbling around partially closed lips. “Well, she’s super energetic and witty and silly with everyone— What if she’s not interested in YOU? But what am I saying, of course she isn’t, I mean sorry man, I know you like her, but she’s like that with everyone, and just like Jane— you’re just like me, we’re both stuck in one-sided relationships and we have to stop it before—”

“BINGLEY!” Darcy grabbed his friend’s forearms to stop his frantic tirade. “Look at me, LOOK AT ME!”

Bingley stopped, and looked at him. Darcy breathed out, collecting his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and measured. 

“Me and Lizzy… are different. Because…. umm…” He hummed, and tried desperately to think of an excuse. Bingley watched him, expectant. Finally, Darcy thought of one. He smiled down at his ginger friend. “WE are different because.. I don’t care about her!”

Bingley scoffed, and tried to shake off his hands, but Darcy kept them firmly in place. “I’m serious!” He pressed, “I cared about her for maybe three days. Then ahh.. she just got.. dahhh.. annoying. She’s.. too loud, t-too flaky. Too many opinions. I wanted to ditch her and say I was ‘too busy,’ but by then she had.. sunk her claws in. I don’t want to be an asshole, I’m not just gonna tell her she’s a.. a bitch. So, yeahkfirst chance I get… I’m outta there.”

Even to Darcy’s ears, he sounded like an arrogant prick. Every lying word was sawdust and acid on his lips.  _ For Lizzy,  _ he consoled himself,  _ This is all for Lizzy. _

“Really?” Bingley asked, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know you felt that way!”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, “I didn’t wanna be rude. So hey, don’t tell her okay? “Cause.. uh, I may um change my mind! If she is good.” Darcy racked his mind, trying to think of something to say to make himself sound indifferent to Lizzy’s many charms. “Between the sheets, I mean.”

After he said it, Darcy cringed at his crudeness. His face was hot with shame.  _ Ohh, that had been too far. _ He half-wished he could take it back now, but it had seemed to do the trick for Bingley.

The man’s shoulders slumped, and he took on an expression of deep thought. “Yeah… yeah, Darcy, thanks. Thanks for the advice. I can always count on you.” He gave the taller man a one-armed hug, and shuffled out of the break room. 

Watching his friend leave, Darcy sighed, cracked his neck, and tried to convince himself he had done the right thing. He had! He had just saved a lot of people a lot of heartache. It was better this way. There was no reason to have doubt pooling like rainwater in his stomach. He shook off the feeling. He had done the right thing. Darcy collected himself, and walked out of the break room to see if Lizzy was awake. He could use a friendly face.

Behind him, Richard Fitzwilliam snapped his newspaper shut. The blonde man stared into his empty coffee cup, and thought about who his cousin was, who he was becoming, and what he should do to stop the doctor from hurting his patient.


	8. Parking Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy says goodbye to Lizzy after she’s released from the hospital. Pointless fluff and sweetness. Mostly. Will post again soon 🌹

Instead of feeling better after seeing her, he felt ultimately worse, in a way. That day was Lizzy’s last in the hospital. The only remnants of her illness were a weighted sound to her breathing and a bandaid on her inner elbow. For someone just now recovering from a dire sickness, she seemed remarkably chipper. On the other hand, her doctor looked like a man possessed.

“You’re SURE you don’t need a ride?” He asked, for the fourth time.

Lizzy laughed. “I’m SURE! I only live like, 20 minutes away! Really Will, it’s fine.”

Darcy fidgeted with a smile. He still wasn’t used to her calling him Will. He loved how she said it. Like.. like an endearment. Like a prayer. 

“Hey, you good?”

He shook himself out of his thoughts. “Huh? Yeah!”

“You sure?” Lizzy asked playfully, a teasing twinkle in her green eyes, “‘Cause you looked like this.” 

She made her face go blank, and her mouth hung open, lips curved in a slight smile that she was desperately fighting against. Her eyes glazed over and her head wobbled back and forth. Darcy laughed. 

“My mind’s just somewhere else, I guess. Sorry.”

“Hey now, don’t be sorry! I like your mind,” Lizzy said, smiling sweetly up at him. 

Darcy had never believed people when they said their ‘heart swelled’, but right then that organ was pushing at his ribs and working overtime. He beamed down at her. 

She laughed again, “Don’t look at me like that! I gotta go!”

“Look at you like what?” He asked, baffled.

Lizzy clicked her tongue in a phony sigh. “Ugh, you know what!”

He grinned down at her, and pretended to know why she was blushing. 

A car horn sounded from somewhere nearby in the parking lot. A shrill young voice yelled out, “Ay yo Liz-bear! Get your ass over here sis, I don’t got all day!” 

Lizzy chuckled, looking embarrassed. “My sister.”

Darcy recoiled in confusion. “Jane?!”

“No! No, God no,” Lizzy laughed. “Lydia.”

“Ohh. The youngest?”

“Yup. Baby sis, just starting college.”

“Ah, mine too!”

“Really? I didn’t know you had a sis—”

Another blast from the horn, followed by a bout of youthful screaming. Lizzy winced. “I really gotta go.”

“I know,” he said, trying not to sound as disheartened as he felt.

“Hey, I’ll see you later tonight!” She said, mustering up her smile.

His eyes crinkled in affection. They had made plans: Darcy had tickets to the opera, and afterwards they would get ice cream and walk in the park. It sounded perfect. Darcy looked away from her beautiful smile, and muttered something like ‘not soon enough,’ as quietly as he could.

“I  _ know,”  _ she said.

They both sighed in unison. Then Lizzy bit her lip, and looked up at him with an uncertain look. He looked back, confused. “Should I… should I carry your bag?” He asked, racking his mind for why Lizzy could be looking at him like that, like she wanted him to do something.

She giggled. “No, no, I got it.”

“Ok.” Still, it took him a second to let go of the handle. He didn’t want her to leave.

“See you around, Will,” Lizzy said, a half-smile pushing up against one emerald eye. She started off through the parking lot.

“See ya,” Darcy finished lamely, raising his hand in a half-hearted wave before realizing she wouldn’t see it. He stood there, watching her go.

She glanced back over her shoulder, and Darcy caught a flicker of indecision in her eyes. She bit her lip again, inclined her head, and seemed to make up her mind. Dropping her suitcase, Lizzy turned and raced back to the bewildered doctor. 

Putting her hands on either side of his face and leaping up on her tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

She laughed as Darcy’s confused expression morphed into overwhelming astonishment. She winked, and for a moment, the world was beautiful. Then Lizzy Bennet, without saying a word, ran back to her suitcase, and disappeared into the parking lot.

Darcy stood there, frozen in time, for far too long.

The lights of the city glowed celestial and swirling, the hum of automobiles and hissing of cicadas harmonizing around him. The wind brushed his face where her lips had touched. Her warmth had yet to leave him.

The world seemed brighter, closer, fuller. Rich with possibility and barren of doubt. The sun swelled up inside his chest, filling him with starbursts of charmingly flushed sensations; the warmth roared in his ears and pumped through his face until he could feel nothing but a smile, and the feeling of.. rightness.

Then he saw a car pull out of the parking lot. Saw her wave at him from inside. Saw the bumper retreat, and the taillights fade. Saw his newfound love disappear from sight. The sweetness inside him succumbed to entropy. It decayed, slowly, into abject melancholy. 

After a second, Darcy sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face.  _ Was it pathetic that he already missed her?  _

It was still early. Eight, maybe nine in the morning. He didn’t have to work until eight, maybe nine in the night. What would he do for the next twelve hours? What had he ever done, before her? 

Darcy could feel his face crumble into a scowling sob. There was nothing he wanted more to do than to run after her car and kiss her senseless. There was nothing he wanted less to do than to return to that empty condo that he called home. It was hollow.  _ He _ was hollow. Without  _ her. _

Darcy chuckled humorlessly to himself. How could he have said those awful things about her this morning? Ah well, at least he didn’t have to pretend anymore. If Bingley asked, he would tell the truth: That he had been wrong to say those things, that Lizzy Bennet was amazing... and had bewitched him, body and soul. God, when had he become such a sap? Pining for a girl he had just seen three minutes ago?  _ Pathetic.  _ Still, he checked his phone, hoping against hope that her name would appear on the screen, even though he technically didn’t have her number (whoops).

Instead, it was a random number. He was about to dismiss the call, when he realized the area code was familiar. It was from the same city where Georgie was staying. He hadn’t heard from her in a few days.

He answered the call.

“Hello?”

An unfamiliar voice on the other end. Saying something about.. overdose. Kidnapping. Found in an alleyway. And a name.  _ Wickham.  _ Cold blood rushed through his veins. Oh God...

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Darcy closed his phone and grabbed his car keys. He barely thought to notify the nurse at the front desk that he would be gone on personal business. He promised to do double shifts soon after. He didn’t think about calling anyone else. He just raced home, threw together an overnight bag, and locked his front door behind him. The next thing he knew, he was driving North, to the big city, to where his little sister needed him.


	9. Messages and Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twice as long as normal. Some of it is from Richard’s view (just to get his thoughts). Darcy wraps up the three-hour road trip and finally sees his sister. Angst and inner thoughts. Sweet sibling bond.

Three hours later, he thought to call Lizzy. He cursed himself when he remembered: he didn’t have her number! Grumbling swears under his breath, he phoned Richard. Since he was on shift, he could get a patient’s phone number. For emergencies of course. Richard didn’t pick up the phone. Darcy deliberated a bit while he was waiting for the beep. 

If he told Richard the real reason for his leaving town, his cousin would flip out, understandably. Darcy would have been all for extra help, but he knew that if their floor lost 2 out of 3 of their general practitioners for God knows how long, things wouldn’t be good. Besides, he knew for SURE Richard was out of vacation days. It would be better to tell him in person anyway, once he had all the facts.

_*BEEEP* Hey, Richard, it’s me. Anyway, I’m just calling to let you know, I’m gonna be out of town for a few days for.. uh… business... offer. Tellyouaboutitlater. Hmm. Uh, mm, anyway, c-could you give Lizzy my number? Or, call me back, and give me her’s? I was supposed to meet up with her tonight, and I was really looking forward to it. Don’t wanna mess up my chances, ya know?.. so, uh, call me back. Thanks. Bye. *Beeeep*_

Richard took the phone away from his ear. He breathed out something that could be called a sigh. Life was getting too complicated for him. 

Richard Fitzwilliam was not stupid. He was silly. People often mistook the two, but there was a difference. 

He knew that something was up with his cousin. A month ago, he wouldn’t have been worried. Darcy had always been the same. Very uptight, very by the numbers. Awkward and taciturn. But something had changed in the week. He had met _her._

 _God, what was it about beautiful women that changed normal guys into asshats?_ Well, of course, that hadn’t been Richard’s first thought on the subject. At first he had thought _God, what was it about beautiful women that changed intelligent guys into sappy fools?_

But now things were different. After Darcy’s “private” talk with Bingley in the break room, Richard was rethinking everything. Even to the worst of the worst, the Darcy he knew was polite. Stiff, but courteous. He would have NEVER insulted someone behind their back unless they had done it first. And Richard had seen, first hand, Darcy was different around Lizzy Bennet. He clearly had feelings for her, but maybe Richard had misjudged those feelings. He had lied in the break room, but about what? 

Richard had never seen his cousin love. But he also had never seen him lust either. _‘Don’t wanna mess up my chances’? ‘Meet her tonight’?_ Was Darcy just using that awesome and intelligent woman for… for a quick fuck? 

And now he was out of town, for some mysterious reason. God. He didn’t know Darcy at all. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe there was an excuse. If it was a valid one though, Richard had yet to hear it.

He sighed. He cleared his answering machine. He owed it to Lizzy to tell her something, but what? That his cousin was just using her? That he was acting strange and Richard had no explanation? That he loved her, possibly?

 _Ugh._ He would figure it out tomorrow. Tonight, he just needed to go home and sleep. He trudged down the hallway with his files. He didn’t call Darcy back.

Meanwhile, the very person who was weighing so heavily on his mind, was also struggling, but in a different way. Darcy, though he seemed like a Big-City man, had always been a country boy at heart. He couldn’t deal with all the hubbub, which is why he usually made his sister visit HIM, instead of driving all the way out to NYC. But today, he had driven all three hours up the coast, and was now stopped in traffic for the fifth time.

“Fucking dammit,” he muttered to himself as he pulled off and into a parking garage. Usually, he never used that kind of language (that was more Lizzy’s style, to be honest) but right now he was under stress like never before.

His little sister, his little Georgie, was in the Emergency Room. 

She had been attending the University of Columbia. She had been lonely. She had been MORE than lonely— _she had been alone._ Easy pickings for someone like **him. He** had found her. **He** had convinced her it was safe. **He** had drugged her, and taken her God knows where in the hopes of getting a ransom. **He** had heard sirens, and even in his drunken state, **he** had managed to slip away, leaving poor Georgie in an alleyway. When the cops found her, she was barely conscious, with a horrible gash on her forehead, and bruises on her wrists and.. and between her legs. George Wickham’s wallet had been found nearby.

Now Darcy was slamming his car door, and racing into the hospital. 

He threw open the doors to find a familiar scene: white-washed walls and linoleum floors, old folks and hushed voices, bleached smiles and scattered apologies. Usually, he was one of the doctors rushing by, carefully courteous but never making eye contact. Now, he was playing the part of the deranged family member, hell-bent on seeing their loved one again.

“Georgiana Darcy,” he said to the man at the desk, out of breath, “Where is she?”

“Are you family?”

“Yes, I’m her brother— guardian.”

The nurse nodded and typed something on his computer. He looked back up at Darcy with pity etched into his forgettable face. “Room 22b. First floor, second hallway on the right.”

Darcy thought he said thank you, but he wasn’t sure. He was already halfway down the hall, walking as quickly as socially acceptable, or a little faster. He burst into the room, startling a doctor as he barged in.

“How is she?” He asked, rushing over to the bedside.

Her answer was cut off by Darcy’s strangled gasp as he caught sight of his little sister.

Georgie, his sweet Georgie, who was always bouncy and smiling and happy to see him, was lying there, unmoving. Her pale, flaxen hair was ratty and torn in several places. Dried blood stained her porcelain scalp. A pair of ugly red marks shone bright and tormented just above her left eye, just spaced out enough to be knuckles. Her blue eyes were hidden behind closed lids, the eyelashes resting peacefully on dark tired bags. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

He moved to touch her face, to hold her close, but was slapped away by an unfamiliar hand.

“Sir,” the doctor hissed angrily, “I must ask you not to disturb her! She’s sleeping. Her body needs to heal.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Darcy reliped, numbly. “How- how long has she been here?”

“She just got in early this morning. She was alone, ‘cept for the officers.”  
  
“Will she.. Is she going to..”

“She’ll be fine. She just needs to wake up on her own, then we’ll be in the clear,” the doctor said. Her voice was quieter, now.

Darcy heaved a sigh of relief, and stumbled over to a chair nearby. He fairly collapsed into it, and put his head in his hands. He felt like crying. “How.. could this.. have happened...,” Darcy whispered, “How could I have let this happen to her…” Even to himself, his voice sounded hollow, broken.

Without looking up, he could sense the doctor softening towards him. She sat down. “It’s not your fault, sir. No parent should have to see their child go through something like this.”

Darcy raised his eyes briefly. “She’s not my daughter.”

“Oh.”

“Our parents are dead.”

The poor doctor looked aghast. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know..”

Darcy fairly ignored her. He was in his own head; shell-shocked. “I’m just her guardian. _Was_ her guardian, anyway. She’s twenty now. First year of college. She was so proud when she got into Columbia.. I didn’t like her moving so far away, but she wanted to fly… stretch her wings, she said. She always was a little songbird.”

Darcy smiled. Georgie had once said grief made him wax poetic. She had said that before parent’s funeral, before they knew the extent of the injuries. They had been in a hospital waiting room. She had been holding her English homework; she had been taken straight from school. They hadn’t known. But at least, when they did, they had had each other. He had held her as she sobbed into his arms. They had been broken. But they were broken together. Now it was just him, and he was broken. His little Georgie had reached the breaking point, and it was all because he wasn’t there for her when she needed him.

To his mortification, Darcy started to cry.

The tears slipped out down his cheeks, flowing with snot and gunk and shaking, stumbling cries as the great man crumbled into his hands. The doctor tried to comfort him, but he waved her away. He didn’t want anyone to see him broken. He just wanted his little sister back. 

The doctor slipped out of the room, and left him to his misery. Darcy sniffled, and wiped his face with his already soiled shirt-sleeve. He looked over at Georgie. Her eyes hadn’t opened. But her heart monitor was persistent as ever. She was still alive. He had failed her, but not completely. He could still be here for her, for as long as it took.

His breathing still shaky, Darcy tried to calm himself down. All his thoughts were swirling around his head like a hornet’s nest, stinging him from the inside until he swelled up with pain. He needed to get out of his own head.

He fumbled with his phone, and clicked on the keypad until he remembered he still didn’t have her number. He bit back another sob. He wanted to talk to her. He _needed_ to talk to her. 

Feeling like a hopeless idiot, he pulled up the Voice Memos app. He didn’t know why he clicked ‘record’, but he did.

“Hey... Lizzy. I know.. Y-you’ll probably never hear this but.. Uh, I’m not doing too good. Georgie’s in the hospital, and it’s all...” His voice broke on the words ‘my fault’. Breathing hard, he pulled himself together.

“I.. I wasn’t there for her. God, Lizzy... H-he got to her, Lizzy. I knew he was a scumbag, but God.. His name’s Wickham, by the way. Fucking _Wickham_. He.. drugged her. Kidnapped. Left in an alley. She still hasn’t woken up.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, no longer fighting the tears. His face screwed up in pain as he whispered the words he never would dare say to anyone. 

_“What if she never wakes up?”_

He held the phone closer to his mouth, and watched numbly as the voice waves stopped for four, five, six seconds. “I don’t know if I can keep going without her,” he whispered.

Then Darcy laughed to and at himself, harshly. “What am I doing? I sound like a fucking poet, pining after.. after some... unattainable goddess of the night... Ugh. I’m doing it again. Georgie was right. I do always get poetic when.. When…” he sighed again.

“I miss you, you know,” he said to the recording. “I wish you were here. I don’t know why. I’ve known you for a week. I don’t know why I feel like you should be here, waiting with me. I want you to.”  
  
He smiled out at the tearing nothingness that blurred his sight. “Did you know, there’s only been five people in my life I’ve ever loved? Like, I feel like I couldn’t breathe when something happened to them? Well. Now there’s six.”  
  
“I wish I could say I was good for you,” Darcy murmured, “but I’m not. I just hurt everyone around me. I wish I was the white knight. People say I am, well. Georgie said that. But I’m scared, Lizzy. I’m always scared. Scared I’m gonna mess up and hurt someone. People always expect me to be perfect. And I don’t want to disappoint them. But all they see is a mask, just a mask. Nobody sees me. Not like you do. You see my flaws, and like me anyway. Or at least, I think you do. I hope so. I wish you did. I- I think I love you. Yes. That’s what I’m feeling. I love you, Lizzy. More than I can say. I wish you were here with me, and I could just hold you and you could say it would turn out okay and then make me laugh with some stupid joke and we would go home and Georgie would come too and then everything would be--”

He cut himself off. He was crying again.

After a while, he spoke. “God,” he said, his voice raspy and brittle, “I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?”

“I would say,” a soprano voice croaked from across the room.

“GEORGIE!” Darcy exclaimed, leaping up. “Oh my God, you’re awake, how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“A little woozy,” Georgie mumbled into her neck, “Could you speak a little quieter, please?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Darcy said, whispering now. He took a hold of her hand. It was trembling, and damp with sweat. He kissed it, and didn’t let go.

“So,” she said after a while, “Who were you talking to?”

  
“Um,” Darcy flushed, “N-no one?”

“Nice try Will,” Georgie breathed, her voice a shadow of its former, light and peppy glory. “Tell me who. Call it my last request.”

Darcy’s stomach fell down to his shoes and he crushed her hand in his before he saw her slight, sleepy smile, and realized she was joking. “Jesus Christ,” he sighed, relaxing, “Don’t joke about that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she suggested, smiling wider (a sliver of a grin), “Now. Who was it?”

“You don’t know her.”  
  
“Will…”

“FINE.” He puffed all the air out into his cheeks. “Her name’s Lizzy. She was a patient of mine, contracted pneumonia pretty bad. She works as a photographer. She’s… intelligent. Well read. Very… witty. Very pretty eyes.” Darcy stopped himself before he could say anything MORE embarrassing than that.

“OooOOooOh,” Georgie cooed, attempting to sound teasing, but failing in that she couldn’t raise her voice about a whisper, “you LIKE her, don’t you.”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Oh.” Georgie blinked. She had expected a little more.. Resistance to her prodding. “Does she know?”

“She does. At least, I hope she does. She knows I like her, but I am.. Unsure if she realizes the extent of those feelings.”

Georgie almost tried to sit up, but thought better of it. “When can I meet her?” she asked, hopeful.

“Soon, hopefully. When you get better.”  
  
Darcy stroked her matted hair, and she didn’t even have the strength to protest. Darcy frowned at the dried blood on her scalp, as if noticing it for the very first time.

“Hold one sec, I’m gonna go get someone to clean you up a bit. Hang tight, okay?”  
  
“Not like I have any choice,” she tried to joke.

Darcy smiled at her, melancholy and affectionate, pushing up on his eyes more than it showed his teeth. “Get some rest, Little Songbird.”

“I will.” She allowed him to lean down and press a kiss to her forehead; he was feeling very touchy-feely today, apparently. At his retreating back, she whispered, “Mama Hen.” 

She didn’t see him snicker at her usage of the old, never-used nickname, but she knew he did. Will seemed in better spirits, despite everything. Georgie had a sneaking suspicion she knew what brought this on, and a bigger, less discreet suspicion that she was going to like Miss Lizzy. She knew her _brother_ did, in any case.


	10. Flavors of Thought (and Cake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy’s POV. Three days after Darcy leaves. Conversation with Charlotte. Cake tasting. Cameo by Billy Collins. Mostly just humor. Will post again soon, and get back to the angst ;)

Lizzy Bennet was not a woman to be trifled with, especially when she was in a bad mood. Everyone who knew her knew that. _Everyone_. Well. Everyone except for Billy Collins, apparently, but then again, that man was an exception to most things. 

“I TELL you, my dear business associate, it is a commendable achievement that you have deemed us worthy for your time on this most crucial excursion of ours.”

“Billy, this is a cake tasting. I’m here for Charlotte. I’m the maid of honor, remember?”

“Of course, dear Elizabeth,” Billy simpered, “but it is my understanding that it is an _optional_ event. I do admire your devotion to my future bride. Such gracious behavior! As my wise-beyond-her-years benefactor, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, would say, it is a, and here I quote her, ‘nice thing to do nice things for nice people. It is the makings of an even nicer person.’ Is that not diverting, Elizabeth! She is so eloquent in her speech, so articulate in her most graciously endowed opinions!”

Lizzy resisted the urge to punch the little sweaty man in the face. She restrained herself. Barely.

She breathed out through her teeth, and set her jaw so hard it got stuck. “Hey… Billy,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level, “I’m feeling parched. Would you mind grabbing us some waters?”

“Oh of course! It would be my honor to perform such a kind task for—”

“Yeahyeahyeah, thanks,” Lizzy dismissed, ducking her head away from the barrage of meaningless dribble that her friend’s fiancé seemed to get off on. The man himself smiled indulgently (read: leered condescendingly) and waddled off.

“Thank God,” Lizzy breathed. “I can breathe again.”

“Hey!” Charlotte said good-naturedly from across the table. “He’s not that bad.”

“Sorry, I know,” Lizzy said, shoveling down a few slices of red velvet before she could get ANOTHER lecture about proper ladies’ dining habits.

Charlotte watched her friend from over her own slice, slathered with cream cheese. “Hey… you okay?”

Lizzy stabbed her cake with a little more force than necessary. “Yes. Why?”

“You’ve been in a mood all day. Is something bothering you?”

“No, I just…” Lizzy sighed. “Have you ever been ghosted?”

“What?”

“Ghosted. Has someone ever made plans with you then just dipped, without a word?”

“Hm. No, I can’t say that’s happened to me. I think that’s mostly couples, and you know I’m aromantic. So yeah, never been ghosted. Never been stood up either.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Lizzy grumbled, stabbing her cake again. “It sucks ass.”

“Did someone ghost you?” Charlotte asked with interest. 

“No.”

“...sure.”

“Fine, okay, yes!” Lizzy exploded. Charlotte gasped with realization.

“Oh my dear Lord in heaven, is it that Darcy guy??”

“Yes.”

“NO!” Charlotte gasped in delighted shock.

“Yes! He just stood me up! It’s been three days, and he hasn’t even called! _Errghhh_.”

Charlotte considered her friend. They had known each other for years; before college, even! Charlotte knew when Lizzy needed a good rant. 

She gestured forward. “Lay it on me, girl.”

Lizzy didn’t even hesitate. “Well, you know I met him at the hospital, right?”

“Mhm, mhm.”

“And he was.. really sweet, y’know? Bringing me flowers and eating lunch with me… he would watch all these stupid movies with me, just because **I** liked them. He was really great. I liked him a lot. We made plans to meet up for a date, three nights ago. I was so excited, I even kissed him in the parking lot!”

“You didn’t!” Charlotte gasped again. Lizzy had never been one for rushing into a relationship. “Cheese and crackers, this guy must be a keeper,” she muttered, almost to herself. Lizzy heard her.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you.”

“What happened,” Charlotte asked, concern creeping into her voice as she bore witness to a crack in Lizzy’s angry fasade. Lizzy was hurt. Badly.

Lizzy herself wasn’t in the cake shop anymore. She was back on the street, the night she was supposed to meet him. She was pacing back and forth outside the opera house, blowing warm breath on her hands, trying desperately to keep them warm. It was well into the night. The raingutters, responding to the light drizzle above, began to weep onto the sidewalk. She had felt like joining them. The waning moon lit her path as she walked back home. They had planned to meet before sunset. Now, if she looked up, she would be able to make out stars winking sadly down at her. The mascara stains had not been easy to rub off. She went home, and her little three-room apartment had never felt so lonely. She had tried to listen to music, but every song reminded her of him. She fell asleep in the heavy, weighted silence, holding her pillowcase close to her heart. 

“Nothing. It- it’s fine.” Lizzy tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a sob. Charlotte patted her hand. She asked no more pointed questions, but did have the courage to ask, “Need me to knee him in the groin for you?”

Lizzy laughed at her mild-mannered friend’s attempt at a threat. “No, but thank you Charlotte.” She was rewarded with a smile for her efforts.

Lizzy chuckled to herself. “It- it’s weird, ya know? I think… I think I could have.. maybe… loved him. He seemed like the perfect guy.” Her tone was wistful as she bit off the last piece of cake. Across the table, her friend sat in contemplative silence.

Charlotte herself didn’t have much experience with love. Any, really. She had never felt it. Sexual feelings, yes, but never love. She didn’t understand how her friend could ‘almost-fall’ so quickly, but she did her best to wrap her mind around it. This jerkwad, Darcy, seemed important to her. Lizzy wasn’t nearly as mad at him as she should be. 

“Hey, maybe there’s an explanation!” Charlotte tried, somewhat awkwardly.

Lizzie scoffed. “It’s been three days, Char. If he wanted to see me again, he could have called.”

“Why don’t you call him?” She suggested, “Modern woman an’ all?”

“Yeah.. yeah!” Lizzy said, taking out her phone, “I’ll call him and ask—” She stopped, and stared at the screen.

“What is it?”

Lizzy didn’t respond.

“Hellooo? Hey, Earth to Lizzy!” Charlotte snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s nose twice before she got her to look up.

“I don’t have his number,” Lizzy said. Her tone was.. was almost reverent. _“I don’t have his number.”_

“That’s… good?”

“Charlotte!” Lizzy exclaimed, bounding up and suddenly full of smiles, “It’s better than good! This means, he couldn’t have called even if he wanted to!! I could still have a chance!!”

“You go girl!” Charlotte cheered, amused by her friend’s antics.

“I’m gonna go see him right now!”

“Call me afterwards!” She called after Lizzy’s rapidly disappearing back. She didn’t get a response. Charlotte chuckled, and shook her head. Some things never change. 

“Hello, my dear,” Billy said when he returned to the table, less than 10 seconds later, “I have procured the beverages and— Where did Elizabeth go? I trust nothing dreadful has occurred.”

“No,” she smiled at him, taking a water, “She’s just in love.”

“Ah. I see.” Billy looked like he had swallowed a frog. Disgust and disapproval was written across every mushed feature. “How.. quaint. Good.. good for her.”

“Aww don’t worry, sweets,” Charlotte said, patting her fiancé’s hand, “You’ll fall in love someday.”


	11. You Don’t Want to Know, But I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, this time. Confrontation at the hospital. Angst. Sadness. Crushed hopes. Sorry y’all, But I wanted to get it out fo the way before tomorrow. Will post again soon tho, count on it. Stay strong through the spice my chickadees 💞

Lizzy Bennet rushed into the hospital with hope swelling in her chest. For the first time in days, she finally had a reason to be happy! He didn’t abandon her! He just couldn’t call! She laughed at her own silliness, and did a quick heel-click in the air, just for fun (she got some weird looks, but hey, she was happy).

She raced to the front desk, and peered around, half expecting to see Will around a corner somewhere. He wasn’t. She was just about to ask the receptionist when she saw a familiar messy blonde head walk out of a nearby room.

“Richard! Hey, Richard! Richard Fitzwilliam!”

The doctor looked around for a second before spotting her. When he did, his eyes lit up with mild panic, like a schoolchild who forgot his homework, and was now being asked to turn it in. “Uh, hey Lizzy,” he greeted, still staring.

Lizzy normally would have registered the guilt and discomfort on the man’s face, but she was too caught up in her newfound hope to worry about that. “How’s it going? Happen to know where your cousin is?”

Okay, now she saw the guilt. He was positively _fermenting_ in it. “Um,” Richard said, “he’s out of town.”

“Oh.” She deflated a little, then perked back up. “D’ya know when he’s coming back?”

“No, I don’t.” She sagged a little again.

“Oh, but he called, and he asked me to give you his number!” Richard pulled out a crumpled slip of scratch paper from his pocket (a grocery list with a string of digits scribbled on the back).

Lizzy beamed, and took the paper. His fingers closed around hers. “Wait, Lizzy.”

She blinked up at him, and tilted her head. Hope and confusion permeated her features. Seeing this, Richard looked even more guilty, and he swallowed discontentedly. “Look, Liz, there’s something you should know. Before you call him.”

She nodded, slipped the paper into her purse, and motioned for him to continue. He did, hesitantly, 

“See, I normally wouldn’t say anything, but…” he looked around, and noticed a gaggle of nurses who had their eyes pinned on their conversation. Hurriedly, he ushered Lizzy into an empty waiting room and kept going.

“Darcy’s been acting kinda shady recently. Skulking around, saying things he doesn’t mean to good people, making excuses.. I dunno. He’s been… off, lately.”

Lizzy nodded warily. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. 

“He talked to Bingley, the morning before he left. Was saying some.. pretty weird things. Trying to convince the guy Jane didn’t like him, make him break it off with her. I have no idea why. Something about.. a catch. Or a trick. Something like that. Anyway, Bingley was crushed, but he took it to heart. The poor guy just can’t tell when someone’s using him— Not that Darcy was! I’m just sayin’.”

Lizzy caught her breath. Wait, what? Bingley broke it off with Jane? Was THAT why Jane hadn’t called in the last few days? Lizzy had just assumed she had been busy with work (Jane HAD been getting a lot of offers recently), but maybe there was something more. She made a mental note to check up on her sister after this. _...wait._ WILL did this? _WILL?_ Lizzy couldn’t imagine him engineering a _job interview,_ much less a _breakup._

But Richard wasn’t finished.

“And… Bingley brought up you. And.. I’ve never seen Darcy like that. He was… horrible.”

“What did he say?”

“Ahh, I shouldn’t repeat it..”

“What.”

“You don’t want to know,” he tried, backpedalling.

Lizzy pressed on, even though she was afraid of what she might find. “But I do.”

“Ummm..”

“What. Did. He. Say.”

Richard winced, as if he was sorry he had said anything at all. “He said… he called you names. Annoying. Opinionated. A… a b-word. He said he didn’t even like you, that he had just played along after the first day or two. He said that he was… just….”

“Just.. what?”

“U-using you.”

“For what, I may ask?” Lizzy’s voice was dangerously low and perilously calm.

Richard reddened with shame, and didn’t meet her eyes. “To- to get in your pants,” he finished in a whisper. 

Lizzy recoiled, both physically and mentally. She couldn’t believe it. She— Darcy had— He had seemed— She had to get out of there.

Numbly, she walked to the door. It was as if she was watching someone else move her legs in her place. She heard Richard’s voice, calling out over her shoulder, “Lizzy! I don’t know what he was thinking! He’s always been a good guy, I swear! He would never.. He hasn’t ever… He’s never been like this.”

She turned back, and Richard’s heart stopped when he saw tears in her eyes as she looked back at him and plastered on a smile. “It’s okay. Will already made his choice. And... I wasn’t it, I guess. No biggie.” Her voice cracked on the last word, but she was already out the door by the time the tears fell.

Richard stood there for a moment. One thing registered in his mind. _Will._ She had called him _Will._ Darcy HATED his real name; even his girlfriends and family members called him Darcy. The only people who had ever called him Will were the ones he had truly loved and cared about: His parents, Georgie, Richard himself, Bingley (sometimes), and… Elizabeth Bennet.

 _Well,_ Richard thought, _I’ll be damned._

Then the moment caught up with him. It all came crashing down. The things he had said to Lizzy, the horrible lies he had unwittingly repeated.. oh my god. And she was walking away.

“LIZZY!” He called, bursting from the room like a gazelle being chased by a horde of predators, “LIZZY WHERE ARE YOU?! WAIT A SEC!!”

He raced down the hall in time to see the edge of her coat slip outside. He ran after her, calling her name, but it was too late. The hospital doors swung shut behind her. He sprinted outside, but could catch no sign of her in the tumult of the sidewalk around him. She had vanished like the light of day as the sun dipped below the horizon. The sun was gone, and there was no moon to guide him. Lizzy Bennet was nowhere to be seen.

Somewhere, about 3 hours North of where a silly, sandy haired doctor was being crushed by guilt in the street, a man with ebony curls and a rarely seen smile, shivered, and wondered why she had yet to call.. and why the sun was setting so early...


	12. Returning to Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy comes back from the NYC hospital. Meets Richard. Mostly just sibling-like banter and moving along the plot. Will post again soon, love all y’all for reading 🌸

“Are you SURE you have to go?”

Darcy laughed. “Yes, Georgie, I am sure.”

The girl harrumphed, crossed her arms, and moved as far away from him as her hospital bed would allow. Darcy chuckled, and crossed over to the other side so he was next to her again.

“It’s just a few days! And after the wedding, I’ll come back and pick you up, okay? And we can have some sibling bonding time, how does that sound?”

Georgie glanced at him, then away, then sighed heavily. “I still don’t see why you have to go in the first place. We don’t know the groom— or the bride!”

“I know, I know, but it’s important to Aunt Catherine that she has some family there. Dunno why her assistant goes along with it though; aren’t there a set number of guests.”

“Yeah, and you and Rich are taking somebody else’s spots! You should just stay here.”

Darcy laughed. “I gotta go. Pay tribute to Aunt Catherine.”

Georgie frowned up at him. The big man squatted down until he was at her eye level. “Look at it this way,” he whispered, “If I go now, then later, WE won’t have to visit for Easter.”

“Really?” Geogire asked, her blue eyes wide as saucers.

“Promise,” he said, winking.

She squealed, and threw her arms around his neck. “AHHH THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! I HATE EASTERS THERE!!”

“I know, me too!” Darcy laughed, embracing her back.

“Now get going,” Georgie said, shoving him away, “Don’t want to be late for the wedding!”

Darcy walked out of the hospital smiling. It had now been 10 days since he had gotten the call she was there. Georgie was feeling much better; she still was too woozy to talk, and the cut on her forehead had yet to heal, but her spirits were high! Darcy sincerely wished he didn’t have to go to this wedding— why Aunt Catherine’s assistant was okay with strangers as guests, Darcy would never know— he wanted to go back to the hospital, and strangle Richard. He hadn’t gotten a call back, so he STILL didn’t have Lizzy’s number. He was going  _ crazy  _ thinking about her! 

His time at the NYC hospital had shown Darcy that his affection was not a passing one. He thought about Lizzy constantly. If he heard a song playing in the elevator, he would wonder if she would have added it to a playlist. If he saw a show, heard a conversation, he’d wonder what’d she say, what she would think. She was in his head, and somehow, it made him less lonely than before. But still-- Darcy couldn’t wait to see her again.

He drove home, and thought about her, all the reasons she might not have called. Maybe Richard hadn’t given her his number. Maybe her phone was dead. Maybe she was waiting for him at the hospital, waiting for him to come home. Arms outstretched, her beautiful smile lighting up her face...

He pushed the speed limit, just a little.

When he arrived at the hospital, Darcy stepped out of his car to find Richard leaning against a stop sign, wearing casual clothes and night rider shades, and looking very pleased with himself. 

“Sup, Darce-man!” Richard greeted with a grin. “Was worried the hospital would crash and burn without ya, eh?”

“With you in charge? No doubt about it!”

They shook hands. Darcy smiled at his cousin. “It’s good to see you, Rich.”

“Likewise.”

The smug attitude was dissipating quickly, lost in its entirety when Richard removed his shades to reveal worried blue eyes. “Why did you lie to me?”

“What?”

“Why did you lie to me? Something’s up with you, Will, I know it. Spill.”

Darcy sighed. He hadn’t thought he would have to tell Richard about Georgie so soon. He knew his cousin would not take being kept out of the loop lightly. “I assume this is about my.. leave of absence?”

“Damn straight.”

“Well.. I…,” Darcy struggled, for a moment. Then he gave in, and let it all spill out. “Georgie’s in the hospital.”

“What!”

“And she didn’t get sick. Someone put her there. Wickham.”

“WHAT?!” Richard roared, his fury pumping his face full of red.

“Calm down, she’s okay now,” Darcy tried to placate.

_ “Tell me everything,”  _ Richard growled.

So he did. He explained about how Georgie had been alone, and vulnerable to shady characters. How she had been drugged and taken out of her dorm and three blocks before the police were notified. How they had found her in an alley with Wickham’s wallet nearby. How the bruises were in places polite society didn’t speak of. How the culprit was nowhere to be found.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.”

“DON’T TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, DARCY,” Richard yelled, his blue eyes boiling with rage, “YOU FUCKING KNEW! THAT BASTARD PUT HER IN THE HOSPITAL, AND YOU DIDN’T FUCKING TELL ME!”

He stopped his tirade suddenly. “Holy fuck.  _ She’s still in the hospital. _ I need to see her.”

“No, you don’t, she’s fine!”

“NOW she is! But I need to see her! I NEED TO SEE HER! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

Richard, in a fit of rage, had been slamming his car keys into ignition and trying to open the door with clenched fists. He was prepared to drive all three hours just to make sure his little cousin was okay. Then to plan a murder. 

They didn’t have time for this.

Darcy wrapped his arms around Richard’s upper body, pinning his cousin’s arms to his side and holding him close. Richard struggled, yelling obscenities and thrashing around like a man possessed. Richard was stronger, physically speaking, but he was smaller, and blinded by his anger. Darcy was able to wrestle him to the ground, and hold him there. 

“She’s okay,” he whispered, breathing hard, “She’s okay. She’s almost all recovered. We’re pressing charges, but we can’t do anything RIGHT now. Driving three hours to New York to sock that scumbag in the nose is not what’s gonna help Georgie. It’s all okay. Just calm down..”

Eventually, Richard’s chest stopped heaving, and he was no longer actively punching anything. Darcy eased up on his grip, and Richard lay still on the asphalt.

“Thank you,” he muttered, face in the pavement.

“No problem.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Richard asked, rolling over to glare up at his cousin.

Darcy snorted. “‘Cause I knew you’d react like that. And Georgie didn’t need any more drama.”

“Fair enough. Still wish you’d have told me though.”

“Ah, well.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

Darcy helped him up. They walked to his car, and got in. They were silent until Darcy eased onto the freeway, at which point Richard started to laugh.

“What is it?” His cousin asked.

“I have no idea how I am going to sit still for this wedding.”

“Isn’t that always the case?”

“Shut up!”

“Ladies first.”

And just like that, everything was right in the world for the Darcys. At least, it would have been, except for Richard’s forgetfulness, Georgie’s sustaining injuries, and the nagging feeling in Fitzwilliam Darcy’s gut that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.


	13. Punctuality, at its Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Richard on their way to the wedding, and when they get there, they meet an unexpected guest before either are ready. There’s no real good summary, so I’ll leave it at that. Will probably post again tonight :)

The wedding wasn’t until the next day, but Aunt Catherine wanted her nephews there for the rehearsal ceremony, for some obscure reason. Darcy hoped she would explain why soon. He was anxious to get back to Lizzy, or at least to see her again. He had forgotten to ask Rich about her. He hoped she was doing well. 

He was about to ask right then and there, but Richard’s phone rang, and Darcy’s mouth snapped shut with a dejected sort of sound. 

“Yes, Richard Fitzwilliam here.” A pause. “Oh, Aunt Catty, heyyy! Yes, yes, your favorite nephews are on their way!”

He winked at Darcy, as if sharing some inside joke. If there was one (knowing Richard, there probably was, and it was probably hilarious), Darcy didn’t remember it. He just struggled to keep his eyes on the road and roll them at the same time. 

“What?” Richard said to the phone, “Doesn’t this guy have  _ any _ friends? Why are you asking us.”

Richard quickly held the phone away from his ear, and Darcy could easily make out his Aunt’s loud voice screeching through the speaker, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying. Richard looked at him, amused, and mouthed ‘WOW’. Darcy indulged him with a grin.

Eventually, he took the phone back up, saying, “Okay, okay Aunt Cat. We’ll meet him first, how ‘bout that? Yup, maybe half an hour of road left. Yes, I know the mileage. And the traffic at this time of day. Yes. Mhm. Absolutely! Yeah, okay, now it’s forty-five minutes. HEY don’t blame me— _Fitzwilliam’s_ the one driving!”

Darcy smacked his cousin, and gave him a warning look. Richard laughed in response, and made a quick goodbye to their Aunt.

“So,” he said, conversationally, “We’re fucked.”  
  
Darcy glanced at him warily. “How do you figure?”  
  
“Oh you know. Aunt Catherine.”

“Explain,” he said, his tone commanding and annoyed.

“So, apparently her assistant— the one who’s getting married— has no friends. Or family. Like, none. Well, actually he HAS family, but none of them like him, and all of ‘em found very convenient excuses of why not to come.”

“And…,” Darcy said, “What does that have to do with us?”

“Well, he needs a best man.”

Darcy snorted a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish! One of us is going to be the best man, and, by the way, Aunt Cat described the groom as ‘most complacent and courteous, if a bit grating on the nerves.’ AUNT CAT called HIM annoying!”

“Oh dear lord.”

“I KNOW. But, we’ll be able to pass judgement soon. We’re meeting him and his soon-to-be wife in less than an hour.”  
  
He looked over at his cousin questioningly. “But.. we only have 30 minutes ‘til we get to Rosings Hotel.”

“No no no, my  _ naive _ little cousin, we have almost an hour!” Richard grinned, “IF we get stuck in traffic.”  


Darcy peered down the road. “Looks like a semi overturned on route seven. Cars are jammed bumper-to-bumper for a few miles. Looks horrible... Wanna take a detour to route seven?”

“Oh ho ho, you read my mind, old boy!”

They grinned at each other as Darcy eased them back into traffic, and Aunt Catherine’s rage was delayed for another precious few minutes.  
  


* * *

When they finally got there, they had mistaken the timing, just a bit. They were over an hour late, and the rehearsal was starting any minute. As soon as they pulled up, Catherine de Bourgh stormed outside to give them a piece of her mind. 

“Really! Shameful behavior, the both of you! If you RSVP for an event, common propriety DEMANDS you arrive on time!”  
  
“Technically, Aunt Catherine,” Richard pointed out, unwisely, “We didn’t RSVP. You just called a family emergency and only told us the real reason once we had cleared our schedules.”

“Arrogant child!” She fumed, and flicked Richard’s ear. He pretended like it hurt. “I only did that for your own sakes! You are my closest relatives, and I yet I cannot even be counted on to conjure you for a family event! Disgraceful!”

“Technically,” Richard said again, before Darcy gave him a discreet kick in the shins. This time, he didn’t have to  _ pretend _ that it hurt.

“Forgive us, Aunt Catherine,” Darcy said diplomatically, “We had trouble on the road. Traffic jam. It won’t happen again.” He gave Richard a glare. The man sighed. “It won’t happen again, Aunt.”

“I should say not! Really, that you cannot even be prevailed upon to arrive on time to a wedding! Punctuality has always been one of the leading pillars of the Darcy family name, you would do well to remember that. As I always say, a proper guest…”

By this time, both of her nephews had tuned her out completely. Their attention was regained however, when a stubby, sweaty little toad of a man in an ill-fitted tux burst out of the hotel and began jabbering on to them.

“OH what a delight it is to have you here, dear friends! It is an HONOR to know my best man, my compatriot and witness to my marriage, will be one of the closest relatives to my most ADMIRED benefactor, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh! I am overwhelmed by her kindness, truly! To not only grace this unworthy event of my lowly life with her presence, is inofitself a blessing, but to invite her family! Well! I am most grateful, I assure you gentlemen. Now. Which one of you is to be my best man?”  
  
The little toad blinked at them, leering hugely and showing too many teeth. The two cousins stared back at him. Thankfully, before the ensuing silence could get TOO awkward, the bumbling assistant’s attention was recalled by another of Catherine de Bourgh’s rambling monologues, to which he attended to with undivided attention.

Meanwhile, the two cousins were in the midst of a heated under-the-breath argument.

“You do it.”

“No, you do it!”  
  
“You’re the eldest, you’re more suited to the position!”

“But you’re taller, Darce!”  
  
“So?”

“So… uh.. You’ll look more imposing!”

“Just man up and be the best man!”

“FINE,” Richard sighed, his brow lowered like a stormcloud before piquing in mischief, “but only if you call me ‘the best best man you’ve ever met’ for the next week.”

“Deal.”  
  
They shook on it. “God, I can’t believe I have to stand next to  _ him  _ for the next hour,” Richard muttered, before raising his voice. “Alright, Mr. Collins, I’m your best man!”

“Excellent!” the little man squealed, “Now, I believe we should go over the proper sequence of events. It is very important to Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh that this rehearsal ceremony be immaculate! She once said—”

“Billy!”  


The soon-to-be groom’s long-winded speech was interrupted by a shout from the doors of the hotel. Darcy turned, and then he saw her.  _ Lizzy.  _

She was a sparkling pink dress and pearl earrings to complement the little white orbs sewed onto her skirts. Her chestnut hair was down and curled, hanging in long waves around that lovely heart shaped face. A smattering of freckles surrounded her heart-stopping smile. Her emerald eyes were technicolor pinpricks, encircled by dark lashes. 

She hadn’t seen him yet.

“Billy, we’re all waiting for you,” she was saying, stepping out of the hotel and into the sunshine, “I’m already at the altar! You’re supposed to be there BEFORE me! What are you even doing out he—”

She had seen him.

Lizzy’s face went through myriad emotions, some of which Darcy couldn’t follow. From what he could see, she looked surprised, then elated, then desolate, then furious, all before she slid on a mask of cool indifference.

“I see some more guests have arrived.”  
  
“Yes yes,” Mr. Collins said, “Gentleman, this is my dear cousin, Elizabeth Bennet. She will be serving as the maid of honor for my dear, lovely bride, Charlotte. Elizabeth, these are—”

“We’ve met,” she cut off in an icy tone. Her green eyes were holding Darcy hostage.   
  
“Indeed?” Catherine de Bourgh asked, a hint of interest mingling with disdain in her voice.

“Yes,” Richard cut in, “Lizzy was a patient a while back.”  
  
“I see,” she sniffed haughtily, “Well, I suppose it is good you are already acquainted, as you are LATE to the ceremony, and therefore have no time for introductions. Elizabeth, Richard will be serving as best man, please escort him to the wedding hall.”

Darcy had to jump in. He had known Lizzy would be angry at him, but not… this angry. What he done, he didn’t know, but what he did know what this: He HAD to talk to her. “Wait—” he said, grabbing his cousin’s arm, pleading with his eyes.

“Come along now!” Their Aunt commanded loudly, already making her way up the stairs.

Richard, a look of pure panic and purer guilt shining on his face, grabbed Darcy’s forearms and hurriedly whispered, “Look, Darcy, there’s something I forgot to tell you. I gave Lizzy your number, but you see, because I thought you were, well, you were acting like a… well, anyway, I accidentally told her—”

“NOW, RICHARD!” Aunt Catherine’s voice bellowed from up the stairs. 

“It’s okay,” Darcy whispered back, not feeling okay in the least, “Go. Tell me after.”  
  
Richard looked like he didn’t want to let go, (his face was still marred by regret and shocked fear) so Darcy gave him a push towards Lizzy. Reluctantly, he offered her his arm, and the two set off up the stairs ahead of him.

She didn’t even look back. Not once.


	14. Not Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Lizzy’s POV of seeing Darcy again. Just gearing up for the big confrontation :)  
> (Btw, this chapter is suggestive of heavy angst, You have been warned)

Lizzy Bennet had expected many things the day of her best friend’s wedding rehearsal. She had expected herself to wake up with an untamable bedhead, because, well, c’est la vie. She had expected Billy Collins to be annoying and nitpick everything. She had expected Mrs. de Bourgh to be almost intolerably early, and for Charlotte not to be able to find her shoes. All in all, she fully expected something to go wrong. 

But not like this.

She had been VERY annoyed with Billy when she heard he was using a virtual stranger as his best man, because (surprise surprise) Billy didn’t have any close friends. She had been even more annoyed when said stranger arrived almost an hour late.

Lizzy had stormed outside to grab both Billy and the mystery man by the ears (or testicles, whatever worked) and physically drag them into the church, but was affronted with the sight of a very familiar-looking stranger. 

_ Oh no. No, please. God no.  _

It was  _ him. Will Darcy.  _

The man who had taken her heart, and stomped on it. The one man who had let her take down her defenses, waited ‘til she started to fall in love, then took off without a second word. Well, he had said some words, but not to her face. And now he was crashing her friend’s wedding.  **That bastard.**

Lizzy glared at him, and soothed her anger by imagining punching him into a pulp. Except that, when she imagined him hurt, her treacherous heart gave a painful squeeze. She didn’t want to see him hurt. But she also kind of wanted to throw him off a cliff. Feelings sucked.  _ And for fuck’s sake, WHY DID SHE STILL HAVE FEELINGS FOR HIM?!?  _

She  _ might  _ have forgiven him, if it hadn’t been for what he did to her. And ‘her’ didn’t mean ‘Lizzy,’ by the way. It meant someone Lizzy cared a lot more about.  _ Jane. _

... _ Lizzy was walking home from the hospital, moving as fast as her legs would take her. She thought she might have heard Richard behind her, calling her name, but her thoughts didn’t really make sense right then. Her mind was flatlining. Her heart was a fragile whisper inside her chest, a broken voice saying, “Will wouldn’t do this. Will loves you.”  _

_ Lizzy brushed away the tears, and forced down her weaker thoughts. She was done thinking. She was done lying to herself.  _

_ She knocked on the door to Jane’s apartment. “Janie? It’s Liz.” _

_ The door was unlocked. Lizzy frowned. Jane was usually not this careless. She pushed the door open. All the lights were off, and Jane’s normally spotless apartment was littered with tissues and scraps of paper. “Jane?” _

_ Her sister was sitting at the counter. Her clothes were rumpled, like she had slept in them. Her aqua eyes were sunken and puffy. They were staring out at a bottle of pills, unseeing, unfeeling.  _

_ “JANE!”  
_ _   
_ __ _ Lizzy tackled her sister, knocking the pill bottle to the floor, scattering the capsules all over the apartment.  _

_ Jane had always struggled with depression. You would never know it, meeting her. She always tried to push through, to smile and make everyone feel better, if only because she desperately needed someone to do that for her. Jane was deeply insecure about herself (though not physically), often invalidating her own emotions and opinions, prioritizing others before herself, in everything. She was the sweetest, most good-natured, most considerate human being you could ever meet. Most people would never guess the sadness that lurked behind that sweet smile.  _

_ Lizzy wrapped her sister up in her arms, holding her tight as she cried into her hair. “You’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay…”  _

_ “Oh.. Lizzy…,” Jane murmured, her voice flat and dazed, “I made you cry…”  
_ _   
_ __ _ “Nonono,” she hushed, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jane. You have to see that.” _

_   
_ __ _ “But I did.” Jane was crying now too, softly, numbly. “I pushed him away. Charles. I didn’t show him I cared for him. He’s blocked me, Lizzy. He doesn’t like me, and it’s all my fault. All I ever do is push people away.. I’m a bad person… and now you’re crying too.” _

__ _ “Oh, sweetie,” Lizzy hiccuped, “Never think that. Never, never. You’re an angel, Janie. You could never hurt me. Never, never…” _

__ _ “I should have… I should have…” _

_ “Shhh… It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay.”  
_ _   
_ __ __ They had sat there on the floor, pills scattered around them like stars, long into the night. They had cried into each other’s arms. Lizzy’s heart broke a little more each hour, when she realized who was responsible for this. 

And now he was standing before her, looking at her in a way that he had no right to do. Not anymore. 

Lizzy was immensely thankful that Richard was going to be the best man. She was still on friendly terms with  _ him.  _ She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid Will- DARCY. He wasn’t Will to her anymore. He was DARCY… Anyway, she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid him, but maybe, with luck, he would take the hint and back the fuck up. She didn’t want him there. She didn’t.

She didn’t know why it was so hard to keep her eyes pointed straight ahead as she walked into the church on Richard’s arm, and out of Darcy’s view.


	15. The Last Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another shortie. High angst. Darcy’s experience at the Wedding Rehearsal (which just so happens to sort-of-almost rhyme with Hunsford Proposal). Will post again soon, don’t worry ❤️

The next hour and a half were excruciating for Fitzwilliam Darcy. It was bad enough that every five minutes Aunt Catherine corrected one of the bridesmaids, or the priest, or the groom. What was much worse was that since Richard was the only groomsman, he had been instructed to stand next to the bridesmaids. Lizzy’s arm was resting on his. Her smile was aimed towards him. She would even glance towards the pews, where Darcy sat, fuming.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t _ right _ . But his feelings, for once in his life, wouldn’t obey his commands to back down. He was jealous.

At one point, Mr Collins slurred his speech and acciendalty said ‘i schemed bene raptor’ instead of ‘esteemed benefactor,’ and Lizzy’s smile wickedly curled around her face. She leaned over and discreetly whispered something into Richard’s ear. He smirked and was about to whisper something back, then schooled his features when he caught Darcy’s furious eye. 

Darcy felt like breaking the prayer book in half. 

HE should be the one up there. HE should be the one by her side, listening to her jokes and making her laugh. HE should be the one she smiled at like she couldn’t think of anyone she would rather see. 

Then her laughing eyes would flick to him, and turn cold. 

Darcy needed to talk to her.  _ Now. _

As soon as the rehearsal was done (a lot sooner than Darcy expected, as both the bride and groom had chosen to wait to say their self-written vows until the next day), Lizzy tried to leave. Darcy was hot on her heels. Richard tried to stop him, to tell him something, but Darcy wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to hear anything other than what SHE had to say. He shook his cousin off, and raced after his love.

“Lizzy! Wait!”

She was moving fast, but she was in heels. Eventually, realizing this, she slowed turn and whirled to face him.

“Go away, Darcy,” she hissed.

He stoped, startled by how hateful her voice is. “Don’t…,” he stammered, before steeling himself, “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

“No, Darcy. I really don’t.”

With a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realized she was calling him Darcy. Not Will. He swallowed, and tired again.

“Please, I don’t know what I did, but—”

She whirled on him, spitting with rage. “You don’t know what you did!? Are you fucking kidding me?! You stood me up with no word and FUCKING LEFT TOWN, AND bad mouthed me to your friends, then broke my sister’s heart by convincing Bingley to dump her! Is that enough reason for you?”

Darcy opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally, he found his voice. “You.. you know about that talk with Bingley?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Lizzy. I am… so sorry you had to hear that. I never meant to—”

“What? Be caught? Tough shit, Darcy! And here I thought you were a decent guy— turns out you’re just a conniving two-face, a sadistic prick who takes what he wants and doesn’t give A SHIT about who he hurts in the process! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass right now!”

“I LOVE YOU!”

Lizzy caught her breath. She looked at him, incredulous. “You.. love me?”

Darcy licked his lips, but held firm. He nodded.

“You love me,” she said, chuckling without a trace of humor or sincerity, “You love me. What.. the  _ fuck.” _

“Lizzy, I—”

“Did you honestly think I would say it back?”

He snapped his mouth shut, and stared at her. Lizzy’s smile had taken over her face, manic and joyless, contorted into an expression of muddled fury and grief. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

“After what you did to me? After what you did to  _ Jane?” _

“What did—”

“JANE ALMOST TRIED TO KILL HERSELF, DARCY!” She screamed, her hands pounding into fists, tears rushing down her face. “SHE THOUGHT CHARLES ABANDONED HER BECAUSE SHE WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH, AND SHE **FUCKING BELIEVED HIM!** YOU DID THIS TO HER! YOU! SHE IS THE BEST THING IN MY LIFE, AND YOU ALMOST KILLED HER WITH YOUR— YOUR— YOUR STUPID PRIDE!”

A moment of silence, in which Lizzy was breathing hard and Darcy was staring, trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

“Oh my God,” Darcy whispered at length, horrified at himself, “Is.. is she okay? Did—”

“She’s fine,” Lizzy cut off, in an only _somewhat_ softer tone. “No, thanks to you.”

Another brief silence fell between them. Lizzy’s chin dropped to her chest as she folded her arms. Darcy’s hands twitched at his sides, clammy and twisting painfully. He wanted to touch her, to comfort, but didn’t dare. He didn’t want to hurt her again.

“You.. you didn’t even call me.”

Darcy’s heart broke a little more as he heard the shaky way her voice caught in her through, wavering in the midst of grief and pain.

“Please..,” he whispered, “I can explain everything… I would.. I would never hurt you, Lizzy…”

_“Stop._ Just stop.”

Lizzy had moved away from him now, and was looking at him. He didn’t even attempt to unravel the tangled mess of emotions battling in her emerald eyes. Darcy couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. All he could think was,  _ This is it. The moment my life falls apart. _

“Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are the last man on Earth I ever want to see again.”

Then she was gone, and all that was left was echoing words, broken promises.. and a heart, once full of joy and love and hope, torn in two, scattered to the wind as the sun set on Fitzwilliam Darcy’s last chance at happiness.


	16. Stumble Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY LAST FULL ANGST CHAPTER, I PROMISE. What happens to Darcy, after she walks away. (Please read every line, I worked really hard on making it beautiful and touching and waxing poetic)

He didn’t know where he was, where was going. He was going away, that’s where he was going.  _ Away, away away.  _ A way back home. A way to her? No, she hated him. Hated him so much. God, why could he forget everything except the way she had looked at him? As if he were everything he always hated about himself, and more.

Darcy gulped down the last of his whiskey. This cup of it, anyway.

“Bartender,” he called out, “Another round, please.”

The man grumbled behind the counter. His face swam in and out of focus; he could have been anyone. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“NO!” Darcy shouted, before lowering his voice. “No, not.. not yet. I can still see her.. her eyes… emerald fire, burning me alive.. scalding my heart and reducing my dreams to ashes…”

“Sheesh,” the man said, “Take all you need, kid.”

Darcy wasn’t a kid, but he took the bottle anyway. 

The clock struck a number Darcy couldn’t make out. The lines blurred and squiggled on the wall.  _ The lines of tears, marching across the bridge of her blotchy button-nose.  _ Two radio hosts were audible from a speaker in the back, discussing some new war in Southeast Asia. Their voices hushed and overlapping in a private sort of way, conspiratorial in the dank public air.  _ Seething words, spat out like daggers from her contorted lips.  _ The rough wood of the bar grated on Darcy’s soft flesh. He laid his head down as the last of his resolve to be strong slipped away.  _ The last man she ever wanted to see again. _

He wasn’t sure when or if he started crying, or for long it lasted, but the clock struck two more numbers before someone came for him.

A burst of cold air from a rectangular opening in the wall that hadn’t been there before. Footfalls commanding the silence. Stale sound pressing in on his eardrums. Breathing in the darkness.

“God, Darcy. You look like shit.”

Darcy didn’t say anything, but he thought he agreed with the voice. He felt like shit. And he deserved to feel that way too.  _ After what he had done to Lizzy, after what he had said…  _

He knew he was crying now. Knew he was crying because his nose and lips were wet, and his breathing didn’t sound right. Knew he was crying because he had failed her, he had hurt her, he was everything he had ever hated about himself and would never change. 

_ A conniving two-face. A sadistic prick. Takes what he wants, and doesn't give a shit about who he hurts.  _ What hurt most about that, was that it was true. She had been right. He hadn’t thought about how his actions would affect anyone. He had schemed and backstabbed and turned into a monster along the way. He hadn’t even been able to stop the woman he loved from crying.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get you home, bud.”

Darcy realized he had been speaking out loud.  _ Oh well,  _ he thought. _ It’s nothing Richard doesn’t already know.  _

He allowed his cousin to lift him out of his seat and drag him out of the bar, one hand firmly around his shoulder. The night air assaulted Darcy’s lungs. It burned, and he breathed it in with needy vigor. He needed to be hurt. Deserved to be hurt. He  _ deserved _ to suffer.

“Did she really say that to you?” Richard was saying. Darcy peered at his cousin. His face was a sandy blob. Anxious and twisted was his mouth, frowning its way through layers of bone and gristle. 

“Yes,” he replied.

“What did you say?”

“Don’t know. Enough.”

“Darcy. I- I am so sorry.”

He didn’t know what Richard had to be sorry for, but Darcy nodded understandingly. He didn’t understand anything anymore. But it hurt anyway, so it might not hurt to pretend. 

Richard was saying something else. The words babbled like a brook, and Darcy’s nose was running like water. He wiped it. He closed his eyes and started to fold in half.

“Whoa, hey! Not yet, buddy. Wait ‘til we get to the hotel. Then you can sleep.”

“I want to sleep forever.”

“Yeah, you need to sleep a good long while, sleep off all the booze. How much did you drink anyway?”

“I never want to wake up.”

“Heyyy, easy there tiger. Don’t say stuff like that. Let’s just get you to bed.”

Darcy couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes all the way. His feet shuffled across the pavement of their own accord. One, then the other. 

“I ruined his life. Ruined all their lives.”

Richard adjusted his grip on Darcy’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“Bingley. Jane.  _ Her.”  _ For some strange reason, Darcy couldn’t bring himself to say her name. It- hurt. Too much. Even for him.

“I ruined everything Rich,” he said, choking on tears, “I’ll never find… I’ll never be able to make things right…”

Richard looked like he was about to cry too. He swallowed, and said again, “I’m so sorry.”

Darcy nodded again. It was getting harder to see where they were going. Now they were inside; the air was different. Stuffy. Perfumed. Artificial. The stairs were too long and too high, a labyrinthine Mount Everest that twirled round and round a central pole, up to the top of the night sky. 

Richard pulled open another rectangle and Darcy fell onto a horizontal plane covered with soft red silk. His fingers were icicles that stabbed into his palms as he closed his fists. She should be here. 

_ Why?,  _ his mind asked,  _ Why do you want her here? She hates you. _

“I need her.”

_ Oh,  _ his mind said.

“I’m so sorry,” Richard said.

And then there was silence.

The night closed in around Darcy. The room tilted and once again blurred with tears. He wanted to see her. He wanted to dream about her, to see her when she didn’t hate him for who he was, who he had been to her. He wanted to dream about a world before he had failed her. A world of pillow forts and greasy pizza. A world of hyacinths, honeysuckle, and white camellias. Polaroid photographs and emerald eyes that smiled just for him.

Darcy tried to smile back, but slipped into a deep sleep.

It was dreamless.


	17. Sacred Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This longish chapter is probably the last I’m posting tonight (work, bleh), so I decided to make it as sweet and tender as possible (tho not E&D, Sorry) This is the wedding, And the reason I changed the tags to include a ship with Charlotte and Billy Collins. Thanks for reading. Hope this soothes the angst, just a little 🌺

The next day was the wedding. Lizzy woke up and stretched her way up and out of bed. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were a gory sight: bloodshot, with dark bags underneath. She sighed, and applied foundation. 

She tried not to think about him. This wasn’t about him. This was Charlotte’s day. Not hers.

Lizzy pulled on her maid of honor dress and fixed her hair. She smiled at the mirror. It looked fake. 

She put him out of her mind, though her heart was a different story.

“LIZZY!” Her friend called out to her when she reached the bottom of the stairs, “Thank God! I need someone NOT obsessed with makeup and ribbons right now.”

“Billy?” She guessed.

Charlotte grinned and wrinkled her nose. “No. Well, actually, he is, but I was talking about Mrs. de Bourgh.”

Lizzy smiled. “Hijacking the wedding is she?”

“Ohhh, you laugh, but just you wait,” Charlotte said, her eyes wide with sincere horror. 

“Can’t wait,” Lizzy quipped, looping her arm through Charlotte’s, “I’m too happy for you.”

She beamed. “I know right! I can’t believe this is actually happening! I mean, all this time..”

They chatted amiably for a while. It was plain to Charlotte that Lizzy had something on her mind, but chose not to prod. Her friend would tell her if she wanted her to know. Besides, they had plenty of preparations left to do!

They laughed as they walked through the city. They gawked at the sheer magnificence of the Rosings Hotel, or, as they called it, Buckingham Plaza. They talked about this and that, little stuff, avoiding any talk of love or of the future or of anything other than right there, right then. 

Before either knew it, Charlotte was being whisked away to put on her wedding dress. Lizzy hugged her once, hard, to whisper her well-wishes in her best friend’s ear. 

“Thank you,” she whispered back, “Oh! And, by the way, I can’t wait ‘til you hear our vows. They’re gonna knock your socks off.”

“I bet,” Lizzy smiled. 

Then the chimes sounded, Charlotte was taken to a back room, and Lizzy was being escorted by the cousin of the man she was supposed to not be thinking about. Richard wouldn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t smile. Lizzy tried not to worry.

As she assumed her place off to the side, she couldn’t help but scan the small crowd for a mess of ebony curls and dark piercing eyes. He wasn’t there. Then she berated herself for wishing he was. 

_ He’s a bad person,  _ she told herself,  _ You’re better off without him.  _ She willed herself to believe it. She wished she could say she succeeded.

The ceremony proceeded much as it had yesterday. The priest was condescending and snobbish, Mrs. de Bourgh cleared her throat loudly whenever Billy started to ramble, and Charlotte looked radiant in white. 

By the time the vows came around, Lizzy’s mind had begun to wander in a dangerously heartbreaking direction. Thankfully, her attention snapped back to where it should have been all along.  _ Her friend. _

It seemed like, for a moment, the bride and groom were alone in the world. The silence hung like rain clouds over the altar. 

“The happy couple would now like to read their vows, which they have written themselves,” the priest said sardonically. “The bride may go first.”

Slowly, Charlotte glanced around at the small congregation, close friends, family, and strangers, before turning her eyes back to Billy. Almost imperceptibly, those same eyes softened in a smile. 

“Bill. I have never… My friends tell me I’m not a romantic.” She briefly looked to Lizzy, who gave her an encouraging nod. “And.. I have to agree with them. I was not built for love.”

Those in the pews who did not know the bride was aromantic whispered among each other worriedly. The groom looked on with oblivious affection.

“I was not made for love Bill,” Charlotte said. “But… I like to think.. I was made for you.”

She took a steadying breath, then continued.

“When we first met, we were just coworkers. Indifferent. Over time though, I opened up to you, and you met me with open arms. We always understood each other. At least, you always took the time to TRY to understand me. Few people ever have. That alone made me like you. You.. you got to know me, and loved me anyway, even if you knew I could never love you back. When you proposed, I was.. shocked. I always knew I wanted a house, a husband, a white picket fence.. all that. But I never imagined it  _ with _ someone before. And I will be forever grateful you opened my eyes.”

Charlotte’s opened eyes got misty, but her radiant smile held fast, still making her look like the happiest woman alive. 

“You are all I could ever want, Bill. You always try, always make an attempt at everything… I love that about you. You’re a good man, with a good heart. I’m sure you’ll be a good husband, and...,”

Charlotte rested her hand on her stomach. Her palm hit a round protrusion, one that had been covered by her voluptuous skirts. “And an even better father.”

**_Woah._ ** _ That had NOT been in the script.  _ Everyone in the room gasped. Bill looked like he had been struck by lightning. 

He stared at his blushing bride, slack jawed. “Is- is that true?” He whispered, hoarsely.

“Yes,” Charlotte whispered back, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I- I’m going to be a father?”

_ “Yes,”  _ she said, tears of joy falling from her eyes, after they were pushed closed by her effervescent smile.

A miracle occurred, right there in the church. For a moment, Billy Collins had absolutely nothing to say. He simply stood there, awestruck. Then he sunk to his knees in front of his beautiful bride, and hugged her around the middle. He nuzzled against her rounded abdomen, his shoulders quivering with unbridled emotion. 

“My- my love,” he said finally, still on his knees, “I-... I can’t remember my speech.”

“It’s okay,” Charlotte whispered, staring adoringly down at him, “You can make one up.”

“Well, all I… all I have to say…is…,” He struggled for a moment, before looking up into her face with something akin to clarity written on his own. 

“Charlotte Marie Lucas. I have never loved anything like I love you… My- my benefactor, Mrs. Catherine de Bourgh, has not yet commented on love, so I am afraid I have no quotes on the subject. And.. all I know of love, dear Charlotte, is what I learned from loving you.”

He kissed bother hands, and when he next spoke, he did so with his lips hovering over her palms, his lips brushing over the silver ring that matched his own.

“My dear… my love, Charlotte. I wish I could say life was better after I had met you.”

Again, the congregation was abuzz with murmuring, and again they were swiftly put to rest.

“I am afraid I am unable to make the comparison of before and after, because indeed, I cannot remember life before loving you. If I ever lived before we met, before I saw your beautiful smile.. doubtless to say I was a witless, hopeless, bumbling and miserable creature. You… you brought a glow into my life, Charlotte— a kind of luminescence the likes of which I have never seen before, and likely will never see again. It is by far my greatest triumph to know you consider me a good man. If I am one, it is only because of you.”

Here, all the assembled guests let out a collective, dreamy sigh. Somehow, Billy Collins turned out to have a way with words, after all.

He finished his beautifully sappy and heartfelt speech by saying, “I will love you to the end of my days, Charlotte Marie. And.. even if you cannot love me the same, I dare to hope you care for me.”

“I do,” she whispered, her eyes shining at equal brilliance to her smile.

“Well, in that case,” he said, taking her hands in his, from his position kneeling before her, “I will strive to always be the man you see in this way. I will never stop caring for you.”

He leaned in, and thumbed a hand over her stomach with careful reverence.  _ “Either _ of you.”

“Well then,” the priest said, unnecessarily, “You may now kiss the bride.”

At this, the bride took the initiative, and cupped her new husband’s sweaty, mushed-up face in her hands, and kissed him with all her might. The congregation erupted into cheering and delighted applause. Without breaking contact with his lips, she pulled Billy to his feet so she could embrace him properly.

“I love you,” Lizzy heard him murmur softly.

She saw her friend smile against her new husband’s lips. “I know.”

Lizzy brushed away stray tears. It was moving. And to think, when she had first met Billy Collins, she hadn’t thought he was right for her friend— she had never been more wrong in her life. 

The new Mr and Mrs Collins exited the church, arm in arm, and proceeded to the reception, smiling all the way.


	18. Guy that Says Goodbye to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy, that same day. Confrontation with Richard. Will post again soon :)  
> (Btw, I mention a song a lot in here, it’s by Griffin House called “The Guy that Says Goodbye to You is Out of His Mind”. Give it a listen, it pretty much sums up Darcy’s situation)

Fitzwilliam Darcy opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. Unfortunately, the pounding in his head looked like it was going to stay. He sat up, and groaned. Every inch of his body ached; his skin felt raw and sore. Jesus Christ, what  _ happened  _ last night? He usually didn’t drink heavily, but he was no lightweight. He must have had a bucketful…

Then it came back to him, and he felt even worse.

He had told her he loved her, and she said no. She had said no in the most inarguable, most justified, most unquestionable way possible. There was no denying it. She hated him. And he couldn’t even blame her. 

Darcy’s eyes felt itchy. His eyelashes (which had always been somewhat embarrassingly thick) were crusted and stuck to his eyelids. He rubbed at them fiercely. Glancing at his clock, Darcy sat bolt upright.   
  
_ AFTERNOON?! He had slept through the wedding! _

Then again, Darcy thought, it was just as well. If he had gone, he would have had to see Lizzy walk down the aisle without him waiting for her.

A stab of pain echoed through the hollow cavity in his chest. _ He would never see her again. _

Before he could start crying again, Darcy flung himself out of bed and lunged for his phone. He needed some music, some podcast, some SOUND to drown out his treacherously melancholy thoughts. He eagerly played the first song that came up, not caring that the volume screamed with a searing heat through his hungover mind.

Darcy let the soft chords of the guitar wash his worries away. He let himself forget the world, just for a moment. He walked to his suitcase, pulled off his wrinkled shirt, and pulled on a new one. He fumbled with the too-small buttons, until his fingers froze as the lyrics came to him.

_ “You don’t need to change..” _

Oh no.

_ “A thing about you, babe, I’m tellin’ you, from where I sit you’re one of a kind...” _

__ NO. Darcy raced to his phone, tripping over himself trying to get to it.

_ “Relationships, I don’t know why, they never work out, an’ they make you cry..” _

Darcy’s foot caught on the leg of the table, and he smacked down onto the hotel room floor. He groaned in defeat, though it came out more like a sob.

_ “But the guy that says goodbye to you is out of his mind.” _

Darcy stopped fighting. He just sat in the fetal position, and let the lyrics wash over him. He would never have her. She wasn’t  _ his _ to have. Lizzy Bennet deserved better than him. He was rich, and successful, but so what? He couldn’t make her happy. And if Lizzy deserved  _ anything  _ she deserved to be happy. And she deserved more than even that she deserved  _ everything.  _ She was beautiful, and witty, and hard-working, and deserved everything life had to give her. She deserved a house of her own, a place where she wouldn’t be lonely. She deserved friends who cared about her, and listened to her problems. She deserved a romantic partner who would make her happy. Someone to make her laugh and smile, someone to remind her everyday how amazing she was. Someone to hold her when she cried, and help her through the rough times in life. Someone who loved her, who was worthy of her love in return…

Darcy shot up from the floor. He couldn’t think about this anymore. He COULD NOT think about someone else’s arms around her. He COULD NOT.

He stood up, finished buttoning his shirt, and changed the rest of his clothes. He checked his look in the mirror. His dark eyes were framed with sloppy red. His hair was a mess, and his cheeks were scratchy and unshaven. Good enough for how he felt.

Darcy slipped out of the door, leaving his phone, Griffin House crooning softly about how he had never wanted his time with ‘her’ to end. Darcy closed the door behind him. It hurt how much that was true for him as well.

He winced at the bright lights of the hotel, turned up the collar on his jacket, and started down the hallway. As he got to the stairwell, he ran into a familiar face.

“Oof!” his cousin grunted, stumbling backwards a bit. His face lit up (though not with happiness, exactly) when he saw who he had bumped into. 

“Darcy!” Richard said, too loudly, “Glad to see you’re finally awake. I was just goin’ up to check your breathing.”  
  
“Hello,” he greeted with another wince, “um, could you speak a little softer, please?”

“Oh of course,” Richard said, lowering his voice. His blue eyes took on a look of deep concern and deeper guilt. “How are you?”

Darcy shrugged. He knew the answer, but also knew it would just prompt more questions. “As well as can be expected, I guess,” he settled on finally.

“Look man,” Richard fidgeted, looking as nervous as Darcy had ever seen him, “There’s something.. I need to tell you.”

“..ok?” Darcy said dubiously, “What?”

Richard sucked in one long sigh, then rushed to get all his words out on that same breath. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault, Darcy. She hates you because of me.”

“What.. are you talking about.”

“Well, I thought you were acting strange, like you had something to hide, and at first I just figured you were in love, right?”

“Right,” Darcy said, a glower settling onto his features. Richard babbled on.

“But then you started getting worse and worse, less and less like yourself, and then suddenly you started telling Bingley to break it off with his girl. I’ve never seen you like that, Darce! And all the things you said about Lizzy.. You sounded like a.. a... a sadistic prick!”  
  
Darcy stumbled back.  _ Those words. She had said that too.  _ He stared at Richard, eyes wide. “You didn’t,” he whispered.

“I didn’t know what to think!” Richard was saying, “You were turning into someone I’ve never seen before, and I couldn’t believe that you were being yourself! Then you took off with no reason, at least I thought you did, and I didn’t want Lizzy to rush in blind to a relationship with you if you were just using her. So I told her. Everything. I didn’t think you cared about her.”

Red was the last thing Darcy saw before his fist connected with Richard’s nose. His cousin fell with a cry, sagging against the wall and covering his face. Darcy shook off his smarting knuckles as he stood over his fallen cousin.

Richard wobbled, touched his nose, and winced when his fingers came away with blood. “I.. I probably deserved that.”  
  
_ “You… told... her…” _

“Well what was I SUPPOSED TO DO, HUH?!” Richard lashed out, “My BEST FRIEND is acting like a HORRIBLE PERSON for NO REASON, and I’m just supposed to SIT THERE?!? IS THAT IT!?!”

Darcy closed his eyes. He breathed in, then out. He was sobering up, quickly. “Richard. What I did to Bingley was wrong. I know it was.”  
  
“Damn right.”

“But make no mistake,” Darcy said, opening his eyes to dangerously small slits, “I have NEVER NOT cared about Lizzy. I care about her more than myself.”

“Fucking pimp way of showing it, mate,” Richard muttered, wiping away blood.

Darcy sighed, heavily. “You know what,” he said at length, “I’m not mad you told her.”

Richard snorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

“I’m MAD,” he continued with a glare, “because you allowed her to think I didn’t care. If we had just  _ talked,  _ we could have figured things out..”

Darcy abruptly stopped talking. He stood stock still. His eyes were as wide as Richard had ever seen them.

“Um,” he said, nudging his cousin, “You okay?”  
  
“We could still do this,” Darcy whispered.

“What?”

“She’s still at the reception. If I can just explain…”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I don’t think she’d..”

“No no no,” Darcy said, hurriedly, his eyes still staring off into the distance, “I’m not expecting her to take me back. It’s enough to hope she won’t still hate me. That’s all I want. I don’t deserve her love. But I don’t deserve hatred, either.  _ I have to see her again.” _

__ “Right now?” Richard squeaked. “Are- are you sure? I mean, what if she—”

But Fitzwilliam Darcy was already gone, racing down the stairs three at a time. Racing to the reception. To  _ her.  _ Racing against time, trying to make things right.

From somewhere down the hallway, the last line of a half-forgotten tune echoed through his heart.  _ “The guy that says goodbye to you.. Is out of his mind.” _


	19. Hallway Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzy leaves the reception. Runs into Darcy in the hallway. Finally, an explanation. Half Lizzy’s POV and half Darcy’s. Angst. Hurt/Slight Comfort. More comfort to follow tomorrow 🌼

The reception should have been fun.

It had all the makings of a fun time. It had great food, and better cake. Streamers lined the walls, sparking light and reflecting a gold sheen onto the dance floor. The music was loud, but good: an odd combination of 80s rock and Mozart blasting from the speakers. People laughed and danced, talked and drank and laughed some more. The room was full of friends and family, and people in love.

It should have been fun. Lizzy had an idea why it wasn’t. Seeing everyone happy and in love when YOU weren’t, only served to highlight the difference between your lives. Lizzy tried to smile. She tried to laugh, and have fun. She really did. But every time she smiled, she felt like a liar, and every time someone made a remark about how love was beautiful and could change your life, she felt like crying. 

It was only 6:30, but she was already thinking about turning in. 

So, Lizzy sought out Charlotte to make her goodbyes. She hugged her friend tightly. “I am so happy for you,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Charlotte whispered back, before pulling away and looking at her friend critically. “And Lizzy.. Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel happy too. Okay?”

Lizzy nodded, a tearful smile on her face. What would she ever do without her? She turned to Billy, and stuck out her hand for a handshake. “Good to see you, Bill.”

The man considered the hand, then stepped forward and hugged her tightly. Lizzy was surprised, but hugged him back. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he murmured over her shoulder, “Thank you for trusting me with Charlotte.”

“She chose you, Bill,” she smiled. “And I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of a decision in my life.”

He pulled away, and the newlyweds first smiled at her, then each other. They said a quick goodbye, and then Lizzy was out of the door. She leaned her head against the doorframe, and breathed out silently into the dawning night. 

Pulling herself together, she picked up her keys and drove back to the Rosings Hotel. It was a long, lonely road ahead of her. Once, the light turned red, and she put her head down on the steering wheel, and just let herself hate herself, for a moment. Then, all too soon, she got back to the hotel. 

In the hallway, she saw him. He was standing outside her door with a piece of paper. A note. He hadn’t seen her yet. She knew it wasn’t right, but Lizzy couldn't resist this opportunity to watch him.

He looked tired. The flesh around his eyes was stained a wine red, and under them dark, swooping circles, paid tribute to many sleepless nights, both past and future. His hair was a fluffy rat’s nest of ink-balck curls, and brownish stubble decorated his chin. His face was haggard, defeated. 

Lizzy, without meaning to, missed the boyish smiles and flustered looks he had given her when they had first met. Before everything had fallen apart.

Then he saw her, and it all fell apart all over again.

* * *

Up until that moment, Darcy had been extremely frustrated. He had driven all around town, looking for the wedding reception. He couldn’t call someone and ask because, being the intelligent man he was, he had left his phone in the hotel room. He couldn’t find Lizzy.

When he came back to the Rosings Hotel, Darcy had scoured the rooms looking for her room. He found it, finally, from a concerned looking bellhop, who had thought he was her lover. Darcy hadn’t had the strength to correct him.

He had written her a letter, but as he stood outside her door, he had hesitated. Scratched out some things. Scribbled them back in. Sighed, hated himself, and sighed some more. Finally, he rubbed his eyes, and braced himself to slip the paper under her door.

Then, by some ancient, blessed instinct, he had looked up, and seen her. 

For a moment, they stared at each other, and all Darcy could think was how her green eyes were frozen in a teary puddle, emerald and seashell hues pooling in her skull. Finally, he opened his mouth.

“Hi.”

She licked her lips; plump as mangos and dry as dead leaves. “What are you doing here, Darcy.”

“I.. I wanted to explain it to you.”

“Explain what?”

“Why I did the things I did. Why I.. Just why.”

Lizzy’s beautiful eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t want to hear this,” she choked out.

“Just let me explain—“

“Darcy, can’t you see that you’re hurting me?!” She exploded, tears beginning to leak out of those emerald green orbs.

Darcy felt an overwhelming sense of dejavu, and a soul-sucking sense that he was doing the wrong thing, again. He had planned this so carefully. And it was all wrong.

So he moved on instinct now, moving forward to wrap his arms around her. He held her close, her contorted face pressed into his shoulder, and, for a moment, she melted into him. For a moment, it seemed as if she would stay.

Then she pushed him away, murmuring something about not being able to do this again.

“Wait, Lizzy…”

She backed away from him, wide-eyed and hiccuping with sobs. “No, no, don’t touch me… please.. I can’t…. n-not again…”

He stood there, hands twitching and outstretched, a look of abject heartbreak on his slackened features. She looked at him, and he looked back. For a heartbeat, they felt the other’s pain as acutely as their own. Then Lizzy slipped inside her hotel room. The door shut behind her.

Darcy was about to leave, go somewhere, anywhere, when he heard the sound of a body sagging against the wood, and sliding down. A sigh from behind the wood. The door was much thinner than that of the hospital. He could hear her voice clearly, hear every shake and tremor as she choked out the words.

“Why did you do it, Darcy?”

A pause. “Because I didn’t want to break your heart.”

“Bullshit.”

“I know that, now.”

On the other side, she was silent. He ran a hand over his tired face. “I thought.. I would be protecting you. And Jane. Mostly Jane, actually, but you too.”

“Why?”

Darcy sighed, and slumped against the wall. He allowed himself to slide down until his back was against her door, his long legs nearly spanning the hallway. “Do you really want to know?” He asked.

“I get the feeling you really want to tell.”

He smiled at that. He got the feeling that, on the other side of the thin door, she was smiling too. Then his face fell, as he realized what he was going to have to say.

“Charles Bingley is…, God help him, a serial monogamist. He falls in love every few months, like clockwork. I’ve known him since med school, so what? Six years? Seven? He’s rotated through maybe a hundred women, all very nice, very sweet, very pretty women. At least half of them were heartbroken when he left. The others haven’t admitted it to themselves. He admires, he wooes, he loves until he moves on. The record holder is Juliet Something-or-Other, from Brooklyn. She lasted four months. Then he met another blonde, and parted amicably on one side.”

Lizzy’s voice was soft and incredulous. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t want to paint my friend in a bad light, but there he is. He’s always very sincere about it too, until he moves on, which he always does. Anyway, that’s just Bingley. I’ve never worried about it before. Until two weeks ago.”

Darcy took a breath, then continued on. “I told him that Jane didn’t care for him. That she was just being polite. Convinced him to break it off. I had overheard you saying something about how she was ALMOST in love with him— and I kind of… panicked. I know how close the two of you were. I knew you wouldn’t be able to take Jane’s heart being broken, and I couldn’t take seeing you hurt. So, in my naïveté, I inadvertently fulfilled my own worst nightmare.”

“Wow.. I-,” Lizzy started to say, then stopped herself. “But.. why did you say all that stuff about me?”

“Huh? Oh, I freaked out. I wanted to make Charles think I didn’t care about either Jane or you, so he wouldn’t think I was using him or something. Truthfully, I don’t know what I was thinking. I regretted the words as soon as I said them.”

“Regretted them then, or when I heard them?” She asked, her voice bitter through the wood.

“Regretted them every second since,” he answered, his voice low in his throat and his spirits. “But I think I regretted them most when I saw how much pain they caused you. I’m so sorry, Lizzy.”

For a while, it was silent. Nothing but the humming of their hearts and the muffled sound of a clock ticking from somewhere in the distance. 

“But… why did you leave?”

“My.. my little sister was in the hospital.”

“Oh my God, is she okay?”

“She’s recovering. Georgie..,” his voice cracked, just thinking about it, “Georgie was kidnapped. Drugged. Possibly raped, though we need more evidence for that. She was still unconscious when I got to her.”

“I am so sorry.”

“It wasn’t _you_ that did it,” Darcy said quietly. “If anything, it was her attacker’s fault. And other than that, the only blame lies to me. I’m her closest family. Our parents are dead; for as long as she can remember, I’m all she’s had. And I failed her.”

“You didn’t fail her.”

“But I failed you. I wasn’t there for you, and I wasn’t there for her either. I- I-...” Darcy tried to say something, but the words died on his tongue. His eyes were smarting. He rubbed them forcefully. 

“I never meant to hurt you, Lizzy,” he murmured into the silence, “I just wanted to do the right thing. I- I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Lizzy. But please don’t.. don’t hate me. Even if I never see you again, I can’t leave knowing you still hate me.”

The door clicked open behind him. A petite figure stepped out and sat beside him. Hope surged within his chest, but he daren’t breathe, lest he ruin the moment. The moment when the world was coming back together again.

“I don’t hate you…,” Lizzy Bennet whispered, and leant her head against Fitzwilliam Darcy’s shoulder, just for a moment. But it was long enough.


	20. Night In - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Lizzy talk. Not about their problems, necessarily, but just talk. Long chapter with fluff and banter, bc we’ve earned it. 🌸

All too soon, she raised her head from his shoulder. Darcy was able to force air in and out of his lungs again, but he was already remiss for her touch.

Lizzy’s face was turned away from him, so he couldn’t tell if she was still crying. Her voice was brittle though. About to break. “Come on, Darcy. We should have a little conversation.”

He licked his lips. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Say it anyway.”

“Say what?”

“I _dunno_ , whatever's on your mind, GOD. I just… I want something to focus on. Please.”

He was silent, trying desperately to seize upon some sort of topic. She sighed, and picked one out for him. “Have you always been close with your sister?”

Darcy relaxed somewhat. “Fairly close. As close as siblings can be, when they’re almost a decade apart.”

“Woah,” Lizzy remarked, “How old is she now?”

“Just turned twenty in June. First year of college. University of Columbia. She got a full scholarship you know!”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, blushing slightly, “I’m really proud of her.”

Lizzy took a second before her next question. “Is it.. Is her being in New York hard for you?”

“I.. I guess, yeah,” he answered, “But we call every few days. It’s really only hard when something happens…”

“...it’s still not your fault.”

He didn’t agree with her, so he chose to be silent for a while. Their breathing was evening out; both of them. Then Lizzy laughed lightly.

“Hold on, I just did the math. So.. if your sister’s 20… and you said ‘a decade older’... you’re in your thirties!”

“Yes,” Darcy smiled, somewhat flustered, “But  _ young _ thirties! I’m only turning 31 in December!”

“I don’t think I knew that,” she said softly. There was a lot they didn’t know about each other, he realized.

“How old..,” he cleared his throat, “how old are you?”

“Twenty six.”

“I don’t think I knew that either.”

Lizzy glanced at him, and he caught a glimpse of her forest eyes before she turned away again. “So.. when’s your birthday?”

“December 12th.”

“I’ll make sure to get you a present then,” She said, the outline of her cheek curving with a smile.

He laughed, quietly, unmeasurably pleased with the insinuation that she would be seeing him again. “So.. uh,” he stammered, desperate tot keep the conversation going, “when’s your birthday?”

“April 1st.”

“Really!”

“Yeah, no joke! I’m the real April Fool!”

Darcy laughed again, fuller this time. “Do you get pranked on your birthday?” He teased, “Pins in the shower head? Salt in your coffee?”

“Ugh,” she said good-naturedly, sticking her tongue out at him, “NO. Everybody who knows me knows I don’t drink coffee. But, as for the pins in the shower head, yes, but only on special years.”

They laughed together, and Darcy felt his heart swell up with hope. This was so much like how they used to talk. Free. Uncaring. Laughing and sweet. As their giggles died down, they sat for a while, in a comfy sort of silence.

“I think... I missed you,” she said, not looking at him. 

Darcy swallowed. “I.. think I missed you too.”

In the ensuing silence, they could hear voices down the hall, from the bottom of the stairwell.

“Ughh,” Lizzy groaned, burying her face in his shoulder, “I  _ really  _ don’t want to people right now.”

“Hmm?” Darcy hummed in a questioning manner, enjoying the feeling of her skin on his.

“To people. I like to use it as a verb, sometimes. Basically, it means to act like a functioning adult. Right now I just want to hide away and never come out again.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, in understanding this time.

Lizzy sighed, and got to her feet. He looked up at her, trying not to let forlorn disappointment seep into his gaze. 

Lizzy opened the door, then looked back at him. She cocked her head. “You coming?”

Darcy took a second to understand the question. She laughed at the look of befuddlement before it morphed into pure, wonderful hope. 

“Sure,” he said in a not-quite-strangled voice.

She smiled, and slipped inside. She left the door open for him. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Darcy followed her.

The inside of her room was much different than Darcy’s. With a pang of shame, Darcy realized it was probably because of his relation to Catherine de Bourgh that he had been given a suite at the last minute. Even the maid of honor hadn’t gotten one as nice as his.

Lizzy’s room was tiny, but not especially cramped. Her clothes, much like his, were still in a suitcase by the door. Hallmark picture frames hung empty and stiff on the walls, slightly off center. Lizzy was in the kitchen-like area. She hummed an off key carousel tune as she rummaged through the miniature fridge.

“Have you eaten yet?” She asked over her shoulder. 

The question struck Darcy as odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything. “No,” he decided.

“I have, but it was a long while ago,” Lizzy said. She grumbled something about her snack-pack being unprepared, then laughed. “I got red wine, baby carrots, and microwave soy nuggets. Does that sound good to you?”

“Um.” Darcy wanted to eat with her, but frankly, that didn’t sound too appetizing. “Sure?”

She laughed again. “Don’t worry, if I eat them, they’re not too bad. And a health nut like you? Hell, you’ll probably ask me for the recipe.”

Darcy smiled in response, and stood awkwardly as Lizzy transitioned from humming to whistling, and from rummaging through the fridge for food to stuffing a bag of food into the mini-microwave.

He looked around the tiny room, and eyes settled on something that definitely hadn’t been in his suite. A small writing desk was shoved in the corner. A string of twine was looped around its metal overhead light, which sat, unplugged and neglected. A series of photographs, polaroids, were clipped onto the thread. Darcy walked over, and bent over to squint at them. 

There were six of them, each with a written in date and puzzling description underneath. A sunset was labeled ‘Death of a Star, 10/2’. Paint stained fingertips grazing a white orchid. ‘6/16. Natural Hue.’ He caught his breath when he saw the most recent photo, the last on the string.

It was of a man. He sat on the foot of a white-covered bed, in a white-walled room, with a white coat covering a dark blue turtleneck. His curly hair was a halo of night circling the crown of his head. His eyes were squeezed closed in a smile that lit up his face and showed off two boyish dimples. The photo was blurry, and taken from an odd angle. You could tell the man was laughing, and something about the way the photo was taken made you think the photographer was too. One of the man’s hands was out of view. An sweatered arm reached beyond the frame of the camera, out in the same direction. 

It was labeled ‘Prescription of the Best Medicine. 11/4.’ A little doodle of a heart was floated off to one side of the laughing doctor’s face.

Darcy caught breath. He remembered this day. One of the last before he had left. Her hand had been warm in his. Her smile, even warmer.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

Darcy jumped a little, startled. Lizzy peered over his shoulder at the photos, then nodded in recognition. “Oh yeah, that one. Was one of my favorites.”

“Really?” Darcy asked, hope in his voice.

“Now Will, would I lie to you?” She said with a cheeky grin.

Darcy’s face split apart in a full-fledged smile.  _ Will. She had called him Will. _

“Now Sir,” she said in a fake French accent, oblivious to his romantic moment, “Your wine.”

She handed him a battered travel cup with dark red liquid sloshing at the base. Darcy stared at it for a second.

“What?” Lizzy laughed, “Not all of us can afford crystal goblets made from unicorn horns, Mr. Darcy. Some of us have to get by with plastic.”

He smiled, took a drink, and tried not to cringe at the taste. Definitely not high society’s standards. Lizzy stuck her tongue out, shuddering. 

“Ew, never mind,” she muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“You see, I  _ would  _ dump this shit down the drain, no questions asked,” Lizzy said, pondering, “BUT I did pay $14 for it. Sooo… hm.”

Darcy looked at her, incredulous. Then he shook his head, and smirked. “Okay, if you dump this… this INSULT to all beverages,” he reasoned, “then  _ I  _ will order us room service Champagne.”

“Oooohhh,” she mocked, laughing, “I’m stickin’ with YOU, Richie Rich.”

“Just dump the wine,” Darcy ordered mildly, trying (and failing) to control his smile.

“Righty-o, Cap’n!”

While Lizzy took his cup of God-awful wine and poured it down the sink, Darcy used the hotel phone to order some Champagne. While they were waiting for it to arrive, Lizzy’s soy nuggets dinged in the microwave, and she got out some plates and ketchup packets. Darcy suggested they turn on the TV, but for some reason the volume wouldn’t work, and they couldn’t find the remote to fix it. 

They laughed, and made up their own dialogue to the sappy reality show as they gorged themselves on soy nuggets (not actually that bad, with enough ketchup), champagne, and baby carrots.

“Oh my LAWD!” Lizzy shrieked, adopted an over-the-top southern accent, “Sammy Rogers, you’re in bed wit’ anotha girl! WHAT ABOUT THE BAY-BEE?!”

“Darlin’ I didn’t mean nothin’ by it!” Darcy yelled, playing along with gusto, “An’ it’s not what it looks like, I swear Ah love yooo!!”

“I can’t believe it! You aw the most HEARTLESS man alive, Sammy!” Lizzy dropped the accent, and pumped her fists. “Slap him! Slap him!” She chanted quietly at the screen.

“Don’t slap him! Don’t slap him!” Darcy rebuffed with glee.

The two characters on the screen stopped their soap-opera tirade, and started making out. “Awwww,” Lizzy cooed, her entire demeanor changing, “They’re makin’ anotha bay-bee.”

Darcy threw his head back in laughter, and wondered if life could get any better than this. Not a romantic night on the town after a wedding. Not a steamy dream sequence with the girl of his dreams. Not a fantasy. Just a quiet night in, laughing and living and loving, side by side. What could be better than this.


	21. Night In - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure fluff. All fluff. THE fluff. Literally made me squeal and blush writing it. Love, loving, and lovely lovey-dove talk. 🥰  
> (Btw, this is the final REAL chapter, the next one is just an extra epilogue 🌺)

By the time they finished eating, had drunk a significant amount of champagne (well, Lizzy did. Darcy was just on the verge of tipsy himself), and had gotten bored of the TV show, it was 10, maybe 11 at night. 

They were doing the dishes. Well, Darcy was doing the dishes, and Lizzy was sitting on the counter, distracting him.

“Are you aware,” she giggled, “that you have dimples.”

“Yes.”

“Are you  _ aware _ ,” she giggled harder, “that it looks like your face winks when you smile and it's  _ super cute?” _

Darcy struggled to maintain his composure. “No, I was not aware.”

“OHhhh BooHoo!” Lizzy called out, leaning dangerously far over the edge of the counter, “Give us a smile, wouldja? Come on!”

Darcy gave her a little half-smile, and she blew a raspberry at him. “NO, a REAL smile!”

He set down the sponge and gave her his full attention. “So,” he said seriously, grinning at her until her eyes were squished up by his cheeks, “what constitutes a ‘REAL smile’, my dear?”

“There it is!” She cried happily, and started playing with his collar. “Only.. I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘my dear’.”

“Why not?”

Lizzy shuddered dramatically. “Reminds me too much of Billy Collins.”

“Dear God,” Darcy swore mildly, “Thanks for the heads up. Never again.”

“Hmm.” She continued to play with his collar. Every so often, her feather-light fingers would brush his collarbone or the soft flesh of his neck, and drove him to distraction. 

“So,” he said smilingly, “What should I call you?”

“Hm.” She thought about it for a second. “Lizzy, I guess?”

“No, I mean,” Darcy swallowed, “When we’re alone.”

“Ohhh,” she said, her green eyes widening in drunken realization. “Like a pet name.”

“Yeah. Like a pet name.”

“Hhhhmm, well, let me think…”

Her smile started out slow, then grew like a sunflower around her freckled face. “My love, when you want to be romantic, or just for everyday...” her fingers ran over his neck, and Darcy found a hitch in his breath, “Minx, when you want to be playful…” her hands cupped his face, running delicately over his stubble, 

“and… Sweetpea. But only when you’re so in love with me, you can’t stand it, and don’t care who knows what a  _ besotted.. sappy… ADORABLE  _ idiot you are with me.”

“Well,” Darcy said, licking his lips carefully, his breathing measured, “Thank you for the lesson, Sweetpea.”

Then she smiled at him, her green eyes twinkling like the stars. He smiled back, and he was sure his heart would burst. And then they were kissing, and the whole world fell away, and all that existed was Lizzy and Will, Will and Lizzy, together.

Darcy, despite being a perpetual bachelor, did have some experience with kissing. He knew what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to move. He forgot everything he had ever learned as Lizzy’s lips met his.

She tasted fresh and sweet, her lips warm and inviting as they pressed into his. She tasted better than anything he had ever known before. She tasted like gummy bears, and orchids, and fireworks lighting up the night. He moved forward, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her into him, drowning in the taste of her.

On her end, Lizzy was faring much the same. Through a haze of required love and alcohol-induced bliss, she noted that he tasted like ice melt, aftershave, and sour lemon candy. A sweetish, cleanish taste that was savory and addictive on her tongue. She ran it experimentally over his bottom lip and Darcy growled low in his throat, redoubling his effort to pull her into him. 

His pulse was hard and fast in his ears, and the way she was rubbing (slowly. Tantalizingly, torturously slowly) against him was making it difficult to see straight.

“Lizzy,” he said softly, warningly, as her hands moved from where they had been resting on his neck to his waistband, untucking his shirt with expert agility. She blinked innocently up at him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

“Are you sure you want me?” Lizzy asked in return, reproachful and hesitant as he stopped touching her for a moment.

Darcy sighed out through his nose. “Lizzy…” He pressed his lips to her throat and worked his way down. She let out a soft moan as his teeth scraped over her collarbone. 

“I could never NOT want you,” he murmured into the soft flesh.

“Then I’m sure.”

“Positive?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

She kissed him again, and again. “I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she whispered against his mouth, “Now shut up and take me to bed.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He scooped her off the counter, eliciting an adorable little shriek, and took her to bed.

* * *

Some time afterward, they were snuggled up in the too-small bed, tangled in a mess of sheets and warm skin. Darcy was rubbing slow circles onto her shoulder with his thumb, not thinking about anything at all. She sighed into him, and the humid breath clung to his exposed skin like evaporated honey.

“Happy, Sweetpea?” He asked quietly.

“Incandescently so,” Lizzy answered softly. Darcy could feel her smile pressed into his bare chest.

“Glad to hear it.”

She tried to snuggle closer to him, but she was already pressing every available surface into him. “Hey.. are you alright?” she asked into him, her voice muffled and sweetly worried.

He chuckled, and kissed her ruffled hair. “Yeah.. I’m just trying to assure myself that I’m not dreaming, and I’m gonna wake up alone in my bed.” His tone was light, but it carried a certain sadness that Lizzy just refused to ignore.

“Hey,” she said, pulling away to get a good look at his face, “Don’t worry about what happened before. No no, don’t roll your eyes, I know you! You’re putting all the blame on yourself, and you shouldn’t do that.”

“But it WAS my fault,” Darcy said miserably, “What if I mess everything up? What if I hurt you? I- I don’t think I could lose you again, Lizzy. I really don’t think I could.”

She kissed him again, slowly, sweetly. “I don’t want to lose you either, Will. And you won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

“Really?” Darcy said, smiling softly, blushing in the glare of a far-off street light.

“I’ve never fallen in love in a week before,” Lizzy laughed, before sobering into a sweet sort of whisper, “I think.. my heart’s making up for lost time— making up for all the years I didn’t know you. I missed you, all those years. I just.. love you. I love you, Will.”

Hearing the woman you love say something like that, what could you do, except kiss her senseless, and smile into her skin as you will your heart not to burst out of your chest. 

It was this night, the night that changed everything for them: the night that Darcy realized that he liked weddings. And the next one, Darcy vowed, he  _ would _ watch Lizzy walk down the aisle, right to his side. Watch her hold his hand and kiss him like she meant it after “I do”, her emerald eyes lighting up his life, forevermore.


	22. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWO YEARS LATER...

Elizabeth Bennet walked into the hospital, the now familiar signs proving useless as she moved with ease through the winding halls. She hefted the balloons, adjusting her grip so the bunch wouldn’t fly out of her hands. She made her way over to the receptionist’s desk. Kitty greeted her with a relieved laugh.

Before she could get a word in, the bubbly receptionist exclaimed, “OmiGOD Lizzy, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Good to be wanted,” Lizzy replied with a quirked eyebrow (a trick she had picked up from a certain someone who swore it was never intentional).

“Yeah, big man’s been in a mood since this morning.”

“Has he now?” She asked, leaning over the counter.

“Oh Jesus, yes, he’s been glowering and stomping around and being short with patients.. it’s a nightmare.”

“I bet,” Lizzy smiled, “I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!!” Kitty’s enthusiastic response was cut short by, ya know, her JOB (*insert barf emoji*), and she had to quickly excuse herself to take a call.

Lizzy chuckled to herself, grabbed a file to check his schedule, and headed off down the hall. Before she made it to the conference room though, she bumped into the OTHER two doctors on staff.

“Hi Lizzy!” They both said, almost in unison.

“Hey Rich. Hey Charlie,” Lizzy replied, smiling.

“Ugh, would love to chat,” Richard said, groaning, “but I have to see a meeting with some new recruits, and I have to give a speech.”

“Oh too bad, when do you have to be there?”

Richard grinned. “Eight minutes ago.”

Lizzy laughed, and Richard ducked out down the hall. He hadn’t changed a bit.

“So,” she said, conversationally, “How’s Janie? Haven’t seen her much since the move.”

Charlie’s face lit up, like it always did while talking about his wife. “Oh, she’s doing great! Sad that she can’t come up and visit more often, but the film’s release date is due in December, so she’ll be back to visit soon!”

“Glad to hear it,” Lizzy said, “Tell her I miss her, and to pick up the damn phone!”

“Will do,” Charlie laughed. 

“Oh, wait, Charlie,” she said, stopping him, “Do you know where Will is? I.. uh.. kinda got a surprise for him.”

The doctor eyes the giant bunch of balloons warily. “I.. ah, see. He’s dealing with a patient, room 14. Should be out any minute.”

“‘Kay, thanks.”

“Bye, sis.”

“Bye, bro.”

They smiled at each other, both still not used to the newfound family ties. Both were happy with it though, and Lizzy hummed cheerily to herself as she continued down the hall. 

Finally, she saw him, just as was exiting the room. His dark curls were tousled, and his hands clenched and unclenched at random intervals. He moved quickly, head down, clearly frustrated. Lizzy hoped this would still be a good time. He looked up, and glared around the hallway, a familiar scowl set in place. It melted when he saw her.

He cleared the hallway in four long strides, and greeted her with a kiss. “Hey you,” Fitzwilliam Darcy smiled down at her. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Lizzy said with a grin, “What? Not happy to see me?”

“Never could not be, love.” He kissed her again, but pulled away when he realized she wasn’t participating. He looked up, and, seemingly for the first time, noticed the immense bunch of balloons attached to his girlfriend's fist.

“Ummm.. what do you have here?” Darcy asked, eyebrows pressing together.

“We’re celebrating!”

“Great!.... uh, celebrating what?”

“I got us out of family dinner at your Aunt’s house!”

“What?” Darcy exclaimed, shocked, “How?”

“I told her to go fuck herself.”

“Oh.” It took a few seconds for Darcy’s brain to catch up. “Wait, yoU DID WHAT?!”

Lizzy sighed. “She.. um… found out I moved in…”

Darcy nodded, trying not to let his thoughts wander to how OVERJOYED he was that she was FINALLY living with him. “Uh, huh…” he said carefully.

“And… well, she may have gotten the wrong idea.”

“Go on….”

Lizzy did that adorable thing he loved (well, there were many, but this was one example), where she puffed all the air up into her cheeks and blew it out like a pufferfish. Then she started speaking very, very quickly.

“So your Aunt comes over to the condo, and she’s like, ‘You cannot be a loss as to why I am here,’ and I’m like ‘dude, what?’ And she says ‘you’re a little slut bitch gold digger who seduced my nephew. I don’t care that he’s throwing away his future dating some gutter-wench like you, but marriage? Fah! Pah! Humbug! You are literal trash and your family is gross and oh by the way I set him up with some rich heiress with a 2 inch waistline that he’s gonna marry because he is quality and you are a greasy little nobody who he’s just using ‘cause you got an ass that won’t quit, but not two cents to your name.’”

Darcy took a moment. “Wh.. w-wow…”

Lizzy shrugged, though he could tell she’s a little hurt. “So yeah, I told her to fuck off. That what we do is none of her business and that we won’t be coming for dinner at Rosings anymore.”

He nodded, first slowly, then emphatically. “Yeah.. actually… I’m glad you did that. I, um…,” he fidgets, looking embarrassed. “I actually got a call from her this morning, that.. resembles… what you said.”

Lizzy’s face was a mask of shock and something like admiration at the pure AUDACITY of this woman. “She  _ didn’t.” _

He nodded again. “She did.”

Lizzy barked a laugh. “That  _ bitch!”  _ Quickly, she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so sorry—“

He stopped her apology with a quick peck and half-smile. “Hey. Lizzy. We’ve been dating for two years. I love you more than I can say. I can’t choose my family, but I do choose you, okay?”

She bobbed her head, and smiled. “Okay.”

“Good.”

He moved in to kiss her again, but she stopped him. Her green eyes were wide and her smile was dazzling. “Hey…”

Darcy blinked at her, smiling back. “Hey what?”

“Something your Aunt said… She.. said we would be getting.. married… soon.”

He licked his lips, which were, for some inexplicable reason, suddenly the Sahara desert. “Y-yeah?”

“Well..,” Lizzy said slowly, pointedly, her tongue working every syllable, “What.. are you thoughts on that?”

It didn’t take long for to catch up, this time.

“Well, I’ve got the ring in a drawer back home.”

“And I’ve got the wedding-dress-place on speed dial.”

They looked at each other for a moment, considering. Then a stray sparkle in her green eyes ignited a forest fire of a smile across Fitzwilliam Darcy’s face; he didn’t even hesitate.

With a great WHOOP of joy, he pulled her into his arms and up into the air, spinning her round and round as Lizzy let go of the balloons and laughed out in pure ecstasy. When Darcy finally put her down, the multicolored balloons had been swept up by a gust of air-conditioning, and were now decorating the ceiling across the hospital. 

He laughed, and nuzzled Lizzy’s neck, burying his cold nose in her shoulder. She yelped at the contact. “You’re staying late tonight, and helping the cleaning staff get those down,” he mumbled against her skin.

“What! No!” She squawked, “That was an accident!”

“Sure it was,” Darcy said, dark eyes dancing with amusement. “But who do you think they’ll believe? You or ME?”

Lizzy kissed him firmly on the mouth, pulling away all too soon. She looked up at him archly. “I WILL destroy you,” she said mildly, straightening his collar, “Don’t test me, doctor.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sweetpea,” he murmured, resting his forehead against his future bride’s, and smiling; smiling like he had never smiled before. 

After, they  _ both _ stayed late, and picked up the balloons  _ together.  _ After that, they went home, hand in hand, and started planning for a wedding.  And every after after that, they lived happily. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!! I didn’t actually plan for this fic to be this long (i got it from a one-shot prompt about a difficult patient lol), but I’m so glad it did! I had so much fun writing it, and just as much fun reading y’all’s comments throughout! Truly, you have no idea how much it brightens someone’s day. ❤️  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and leave a little love if you did! Peace out, chickadees!  
> \- Vinny 🌼


End file.
